


Muse

by dogfighter3000



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Happy Ending, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Single Dad Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), Teacher Steve Rogers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogfighter3000/pseuds/dogfighter3000
Summary: Being a single dad is hard enough as it is. It's even harder when you're in charge of a multi-billion dollar company at the same time. It's probably hardest, though, when there's a stubborn, blonde art teacher meddling in you and your kid's lives.





	1. The Handler

It isn't often that Steve Rogers has a minute to sit and do nothing and wonder about the circumstances that brought him to where he is today.

It isn't often that Steve has a minute to sit at all, really. It's no mistake that his schedule is never empty. He plans his days chock full of things to keep him on his feet and his mind distracted. For as long as he could remember, he's been a busy body. Since he'd already spent too many weeks of his life incapable of doing anything at all.

Staying idle made Steve antsy and he found himself with a surplus of free time after coming back from the army. 

Much to the displeasure of all his closest friends, he threw himself into his work.

If there was an odd job here or there to pick up, he would offer his help immediately. Whether it was something simple like mowing a neighbor’s lawn or assisting his close friend Sam out at the VA, he lent a hand wherever he could. It's not that he was desperate for cash or that he just wanted to help everyone he could. (Steve did want to help people, but the motivation behind all this wasn't that selfless.) He just didn't want to sit still and let his mind wander.

The people around him noticed it too. Noticed the blonde running himself into the ground with random little jobs, never taking a break. They've tried to get him to stop, sit, and breathe for a moment, but it's always a losing battle. 

Hell, his friend Natasha even offered to put in a good word for him at the place she works at. She'd insisted that, while she couldn't tell him anything about the job, she knew he'd be a perfect fit and it'd keep him busy while giving him adequate breaks. But Steve was nothing if not stubborn, and informed her that while she may have what it takes to be some kind of super spy secret agent? He definitely didn’t.

Besides, Steve was perfectly happy with the way he lived. He did his odd jobs in the morning and in the afternoon he uses his half finished art degree to teach a couple art classes at the Rec Center.

In fact, he had just finished setting up the watercolor sets just a little bit ago. 

That's why he had time to sit and reflect back on what's brought him to where he is right now. Which is, again, something he didn't like to do often. 

There was around ten kids from ages six to twelve coming in the next ten minutes and he had the project ready for them as soon as they came in the door, so he could give them the lesson plan and let them go wild. 

Art was no fun with rigid instructions, so Steve tended to give a general prompt and an art supply, then let them do whatever they wanted. After all, they spent the entire day forced to listen to boring teachers prattle on all day about math and english and history. Sue him for wanting to give them something free of rules. Rules were for chumps.

From outside his classroom window he could hear the school bus brake’s squealing in protest as they pulled up to the main entrance of the building. 

As he pulled open the door to his room and jammed a plastic wedge underneath it with his foot, he could hear the distant thunder of twenty-something elementary schoolers running into the lobby. Half of them would be going to the gym, and the other half would be heading his way to do art.

It was all a part of an after school program that the Rec Center organized, almost like a daycare but with activities to do instead of just a room full of toys for the kids to go crazy with.

Steve had found the job opening for an art instructor while searching through the paper one morning. They had a somewhat desperate help wanted advertisement shoved away in the corner. As quick as he could, the veteran sent in his outstanding resume that listed his many good attributes such as his education in the arts (The aforementioned half-finished graphic design degree.) and previous experience in childcare (Babysitting his best friend’s little sisters when he was thirteen.). 

While he may have nudged his resume into a more favorable light for the job, Steve really did enjoy every afternoon he spent working here and had done better than the previous art teacher had, according to the staff.

The group of children who, more often than not, chose art over gym were starting to trickle in through the door and he greeted them from where he was grabbing the cups of paint brushes off the back counters.

“Hey guys! I’m just finishing setting up today’s activity. Once everybody’s in here we can start,” Steve called out to the small group of girls who were pulling out chairs at one of the two round tables.

He gave it another five more minutes before kicking the stopper out from the door and letting it fall shut so they could begin. 

“Good afternoon, everybody! How was your day at school?” Steve started every class the same way, figuring it was a good enough way to grab everybody’s attention.

Majority of the class yelled back they had a good day in response, a few kids yelling out ‘awful’ to make their friends laugh.

“Can anybody guess what we’re doing today?” 

Half the kids in the room raised their hands, barely holding back from just shouting out the answer to the whole class. Steve picked who he thought raised their hand up first.

“Betty, what do you think we’re doing today?” he asked, pointing to the blond third grader who had been raising her hand and sitting quietly for her chance.

“We’re doing watercolors today,” Betty answered, reaching towards the tiny plastic pallet in the middle of the table.

“That’s right! We’re doing watercolor paints today and since Valentine's Day is coming up soon, I want you to paint something that you love more than anything else,” Maybe it was an easy out but he had to come up with almost five projects a week, more for the kids who finished everything at lightning speed. “I’ll be walking around the room for anybody that needs the help.”

The table he was standing closest to was full of mostly fourth and fifth grade girls who had been painting for years, and he watched as they immediately grabbed brushes and started wetting the paints. Steve figured they had it handled over here, and if they didn’t he’d always come over if one of them raised a hand.

The second table had the younger students and some of the more quiet kids.There wasn’t any assigned seating in the art room but it seemed they always sat in around the same places each time.

Steve glanced over at the newest addition to their group, a tiny first grade boy who he had seen run off the bus into the gym a couple times before he had shown up to his art room a couple weeks ago. 

The kid was always unbearably shy at the beginning of class and Steve was almost concerned that he wouldn’t say a word at all the first week. The teacher made it a goal to try and get his new student to talk to him. By his second day in the art room, he had been fully prepared to bring up a long list of art supplies and see what this kid liked to do and if he had any ideas for class. He was going to bring out the big guns.

None of that was needed though because as soon as he realized that, when Steve asked a question, he would listen to the answer intently, the first grader had a hard time staying quiet. Hell, he had kept chatting with the teacher through the entire class until he was picked up by a grumpy looking man he called Happy.

It wasn’t as if he minded in the slightest, it sounded like Peter needed someone to just listen to him and the teacher was happy to do that.

“Hey, Peter. Have you ever used these kinds of paint before?” Steve asked, squatting down next to the boy who was squinting over the set of paints like they would unlock the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

“Uh-uh. I thought the only kinda paints that there was, was just, like, um, finger paints and stuff,” Peter explained as he reached out to poke at the dry, red paint. “Do you use it like chalk?”

“It’s sort of like finger paints, except these you have to make the paint yourself,” Steve picked up a brush and dunked it into the water. “What color did you want to use first?” The blonde man asked, offering the wet brush to Peter.

“Uhhhh...blue. I wanna do blue first,” He took the brush, looking up to Steve for further instruction.

Guiding the tiny hand holding the brush, the teacher explained what he was doing. “The water on your brush activates the watercolor, so it turns the water the same color as the paint.”

Peter raised a skeptical brow up at Steve and the man could barely contain his laughter.

“I promise I’m not lying. Go ahead, try it,” Steve gestured to the paper in front of the little kid.

Peter dragged his brush against the top edge of the page and gasped as the paint on the brush turned it blue. “Wooooah, it worked! How does it do that, Mr. Steve?”

He shrugged as he stood back up. “I’m not sure, maybe it’s magic?” Steve held back another laugh as the kid wrinkled his nose up at that answer.

“My daddy says that all magic is, is just science in da-skies,” Peter huffed.

“You mean disguise?”

“Noooo, I mean da-skies like Transformers: Autobots in da-skies. It’s like when someone wears a costume and then pretends that they’re somethin’ else.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right,” Steve grinned. “I must have gotten confused.”

Peter seemed satisfied enough with that answer because he dunked his brush back into the water before picking up some green paint next and streaked the bottom of the paper with it.

Steve continued to slowly wander the room, helping those who needed it and asking about their days and what they were going to be painting. Over the next couple of hours, as the kids were either picked up or finishing their paintings and going to the gym, the room slowly emptied out until there was just the teacher and two students. Peter and another first grade boy named Ned.

The two stayed in the art room the whole time they spent at the Rec Center, which was probably why they got along so well. That and the fact that the two of them were both obsessed with Star Wars, Legos, and superheroes.

Both boys had finished their art projects for the day and were scribbling onto printer paper with crayons, babbling about what their costumes would look like if they were heroes. The veteran could hear the two of them discussing backstories from where he stood at the sink, rinsing out the watercolor cups and setting them aside to dry with the paint brushes.

A brief knock on the door frame to the classroom had Steve turning to face Ned’s mother who was here to pick him up. The teacher helped him gather his things and waved goodbye as they walked down the hallway to the doors, Ned excitedly chattering away to his mom about the painting he had made. He had painted a picture of the Death Star lego set he had begging his parents for, for weeks.

“Ned said that once he gets his Death Star that he’s gonna bring me to his house and we’re gonna build it together,” Peter said from where he still sat at the table, finishing his drawing up.

The blonde knew that teachers weren’t supposed to have a favorite student, or at least they should never admit it out loud, but it was hard not to have a soft spot for the kid.

Peter was always the last one to leave, without fail. After-care at the Rec Center only went until six, but Steve’s waited nearly an hour past that waiting for someone to come pick the first grader up. He’s always half-tempted to give the kid’s parents a piece of his mind but he’s yet to even meet them. A man deemed ‘Uncle Happy’ coming in a rush to pick him up every day.

It’s hard to imagine Peter is content spending basically the entire day away from his dad, but despite all that, the kid is constantly singing his praise. If he wasn’t such a stickler for science, Steve was sure the kid was convinced his father hung the moon.

“Oh? Do you and Ned hang out a lot outside of class?” Steve asked, sitting down next to Peter and grabbing some paper and a pencil for himself.

“Hmmm, nope! My dad says he has-ta meet Ned’s parents first before we can hang out together, but he’s SO busy doing super important business man stuff that he still hasn’t talked with them yet,” Peter explained, scribbling down the name ‘Spiderman’ in messy handwriting next to his drawing.

“Well, I hope the two of you can hang out soon,” Steve tried to keep up a smile, not wanting to let the kid to know just how little he cared for his father at the moment. What kind of dad didn’t let his son play with his friends outside of school? “What does your dad do?”

“He works at Stark Industries and he helps make all the cool science tech stuff that helps out the whole world, he’s the coolest!” Peter threw his hands up to emphasize just how incredible he found his father. “Sometimes, if I’m good, he lets me into the labs to help out on weekends. He calls me his tiny intern, which I think means like a super special work buddy.”

“That sounds like fun,” Steve couldn’t imagine what kind of man would take his six year old into work with him on the weekends and call him an intern, but Peter didn’t seem to mind so he held his tongue. “Is your dad coming to pick you up today?”

The boy seemed to deflate the slightest bit. “Daddy’s on a business trip right now, so unca Happy has-ta pick me up again.” It was quiet for half a moment before Peter perked up again, almost like he was trying to shake his disappointment off of him. “But when Happy watches me for the night we get to order in pizza and I can stay up late!”

Steve’s heart ached for the boy in front of him and couldn’t help but try to steer the conversation some place happier, if for nothing else than to take the sad look off his face. “What are you drawing there? I heard you and Ned talking about superheroes, is that red and blue one you?”

Peter lit up instantly, one hand pointing to the paper and the other reaching out to grab Steve and tug him in closer like the kid didn’t already have his full attention. As the first grader began to dive into Spiderman’s backstory, Steve couldn’t help but listen intently to every word he said. 

Afterall, it didn’t sound like anybody else gave him the attention he deserved.


	2. Pressure

Tony Stark was a rich, handsome genius.

He owned one of the largest, most successful companies worldwide and his last name was practically household. On top of his booming business, he was a certified know-it-all. Smart, wealthy, and had ladies practically knocking down the doors to the Stark Tower just to get a chance to speak with him, he truly had it all.

Genius. Playboy. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Face smashed against the car window. Passed out and drooling as Happy drove them back home to the tower.

As the vehicle crawled slowly into the parking garage beneath the tower, Happy made sure to slam on the breaks none too gently as he parked. Tony jolted forward, waking with a start.

“Whaszit??? Whus hap’nen?” He slurred, rubbing his eyes from beneath crooked shades.

“Oh, boss, you’re awake. We just parked under the tower,” Happy muttered, taking the key out of the ignition and slipping out of the driver’s seat.

Tony blearily blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sluggishly dragged himself out of the car. The tired businessman trudged his way towards the trunk of the vehicle where his trusted bodyguard and friend was pulling out his suitcase.

“Happy. Time’s it?” The billionaire mumbled, grabbing his briefcase and shutting the trunk.

“It’s two in the afternoon. Which gives you the perfect amount of time to eat, shower, and get some rest before Happy goes to pick up Peter from Aftercare around six,” The CEO of Stark Industries herself called out from the nearby elevator.

“What she said,” Happy mumbled as he took her place in the elevator, closing the doors behind him, presumably to take Tony’s bag up to the penthouse.

“Pepper, my dear, you came to see me on my deathbed after that long and dreadful trip!” Tony called out, flinging both arms out dramatically to either side of him.

She rolled her eyes at his antics, but still came over to give him a quick hug.

“It was a three day conference in Las Vegas. I doubt it was as bad as you were letting on,” Pepper huffed as she took her former employer’s elbow and led him to the elevator.

“Would you bet money on it, Ms. Potts?” Tony raised his eyebrows, giving her a skeptical look from over top his glasses. “Did you know some of those old crones on the board are still trying to convince me to start up weapons manufacturing again? Even after that little stunt with Obie and the Ten Rings?”

“It’s not too surprising seeing as it’s only been a year or two since you shutdown the weapons sectors,” She nodded in a placating manner as the elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside. “And I’m well aware of the feelings directed towards our new clean energy initiative, seeing as I’m the new CEO and there’s at least one entitled, old man per meeting who tries to convince me to start producing missiles again.”

“Is that so?” Tony pressed the button to his lab. “Any particularly persuasive arguments thus far?”

“Oh, of course. I’m utterly swayed when every single one of them start out their offers with quaint little comments about how a ‘pretty little lady,’ such as myself, ‘would be smart to rehire our weapons manufacturers,” Pepper muttered, clicking the button to the lab a second time to make it stop glowing, and then choosing the floor to the penthouse instead.

“You have my full permission to fire them. I don’t want any gross, sexist bastards in the company,” Tony muttered, trying to sneakily press the lab button again.

“As nice as that would be,” She slapped Tony’s hands away from the elevator controls. “I can’t just go firing any slimey old man who calls me pretty in a condescending tone of voice.” Pepper gestured to the living area of the penthouse as the doors opened in front of them. “After you.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” The genius swooned, free hand over his heart as he strolled towards the kitchen. “You really know how to make a man feel special, Ms. Potts.”

“It’s what I live for, Mr. Stark,” She tried to bite down on a smile, looking down to the tablet in her hands so she could hide in her strawberry blonde hair.

Tony set his briefcase on the counter and immediately began to dig through the fridge. “So how did things fare here in the big apple while I was MIA?”

“More of the same. Lots of work to be done, decisions to be made, meetings to attend,” Pepper mumbled as she took a seat at one of the stools next to the kitchen island. “Speaking of meetings, there’s several that you’ll need to be attending this weekend. The board of directors are adamant that-”

“Woah, woah! Slow your roll, Turbo,” Tony whirled around, holding his arms out in the universal symbol of chill, a takeout box in one hand and a cold slice of pizza in the other. “I was planning on doing something with Peter this weekend to make up for the business trip.”

Pepper gave him a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry, Tony. I really tried to hold this off, but I’ve been pushing this date back for months so you can spend time with your son and the board is getting impatient. I’m sure he’ll understand if you miss one weekend.”

“But I wasn’t even home these last three days, and he has school tomorrow so it’s not like I can take him out for something then either,” The billionaire set the food down on the island, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Peter will have had to spend the majority of the week alone and just when I get home I’m sent off to even more meetings?”

“I understand, but why is this making you so upset now of all times?” she asked, not unkindly. 

“I wanted to make this weekend special for us. Something to make up for how absent I’ve been lately,” Tony folded his arms, slumping back against the edge of the counter behind him. “We were supposed to have FUN this weekend. Now you’ve gone and scheduled all these meetings and-”

“Oh, no. Don’t pin all of the blame on me for this one,” Pepper stood up abruptly. “I’ve just been listening to what YOU’VE been telling me, Tony. I’ve tried to be considerate of you and your son’s time together and pushed all of this back as far as I can but I cannot continue doing this. You need to attend, and that’s the end of it.”

“I thought when I gave you the ownership of the company I wouldn’t be stuck in all of these god forsaken meetings anymore! I mean, for chrissakes-”

“Making me CEO doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a huge part of the company! You’re still the face of this entire business, it’s YOUR last name in the brand,” Pepper huffed. “What was so important this weekend that you couldn’t reschedule, huh? Do you even have any idea of what Peter likes to do anymore?”

Tony nearly flinched at her words. There was a beat of silence.

“Shit, Tony...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I was-”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right,” Tony muttered, folding his arms and staring at the granite counter top on the kitchen island. “Your delivery could have used a bit more polishing, but you didn’t lie. I’m never around Peter any more. Not enough to know what it is the tyke’s interested in, anyways.”

“It’s hard to juggle a kid and an entire company, Tony. Nobody can blame you if you’re a little preoccupied,” Pepper gripped at the Stark Tablet in her hands, struggling with whether she should stay where she is or reach out to comfort her former boss. “Peter doesn’t blame you.”

“I’ll be at the meetings this weekend,” Tony sniffed, finally looking up to meet Pepper’s eyes. “Do me a favor and schedule the majority of my meetings on weekdays from this point on, if you so please, my dear Pepper?”

She gave him a weak smile, “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Ms. Potts,” Tony winked, before pretending to go back to the cold pizza he pulled out of the fridge a minute before.

Pepper headed back towards the elevators, smiling over at the billionaire before the doors shut in front of her, taking her down to the lobby.

Tony sighed, slumping on the island. He took a minute to rest there and try to breathe through the stress headache and jet lag currently joining forces to wreak havoc inside of his skull. Like a switch had been flicked, suddenly the genius wasn’t hungry anymore and was feeling like he could sleep for days.

“Jarvis? The time?” He muttered as he folded the box up and stuck it into the fridge where he had previously pulled it out from.

“It is currently 2:23 in the afternoon, sir.” The AI dutifully responded.

“Set an alarm for five thirty. I want to pick Peter up from Aftercare since our weekend plans have been otherwise postponed,” Tony instructed as he stepped into his bedroom, tugging off his suit jacket and carelessly throwing it to the floor.

“An excellent idea, sir. I’m setting the alarm as we speak,”

“Good on ya, J,” the genius mumbled around a yawn, getting ready to stumble through a lightning fast shower so he could fall into bed and get a couple hours of shut eye before he went to pick up his son. Maybe he shouldn’t have been up so late the last few nights, but while in Vegas…

But really, how often was it that Tony got to walk into a casino and just spend a few hours gambling anymore? You can’t just take your six year old son into a casino without getting called out by the press and maybe a handful of security guards. So maybe the billionaire took a couple thousand and stayed up until the early hours of the morning blowing it all away in Vegas. How was he supposed to know that his weekend plans were going to fall through and he would have to pick up his son from daycare?

Tony, after a quick scrub, fell asleep as soon as his body hit the bed.

-

"Sir, it's time for you to get up. The time is exactly-"

"Jarvis, snooze!" Tony yelled out, face half buried into one of the pillows that covered the top half of his bed.

"This is the third time you've set me to snooze, sir. If you don't get up soon you might be late to-"

"I said snooze, J!!!" The genius grumbled, grabbing onto another pillow to slam over his head.

As asked, JARVIS went silent. That didn't stop the AI from projecting bright flashing lights onto the window screens and blaring loud rock music over the speakers, jarring Tony out of bed.

He fell to the floor with a thud, yelling out in frustration.

"Ok! I'm up!" Tony groaned, clambering to his feet and glaring to where the windows stopped their impromptu rave. "Got your message loud and clear, J. Someone better be dying."

"It is currently 5:52 in the evening and Peter's Aftercare ends at six," JARVIS informed the now scrambling billionaire. 

Tony practically slammed into the closet door as he ran over to throw it open and throw on the first shirt and pair of jeans he came across.

"Five-fuckin'-fifty??? Why the hell didn't you get me up sooner!" He called out as he jammed his feet into a pair of chucks and burst out of his bed room.

"My apologies, sir. I don't know what came across me. It won't happen again," the AI said dryly.

Tony quickly swiped up the first pair of car keys he came across and hopped the elevator down to the garage. He thanked himself for the high quality elevators that got him from the top floor in the tower to the basement in less than a minute. It took another minute for him to figure out which car he had taken the keys from and by the time he was speeding out of the tower it was nearly six already.

So much for surprising his son by picking him up from Aftercare.

Between waking up twenty minutes late and the lovely traffic in New York City at six in the evening, Tony was nearly forty minutes late picking up his son.

Busting through the doors to the Rec Center and up to the front desk, he ignored the looks of shock coming from the people behind it.

"Peter Parker, where can I find him?" Tony was nearly out of breath, tapping his finger on the counter frantically. 

"Uh...Mr. Stark, we-uh," the poor lady behind the desk glanced to her coworkers who seemed just as speechless as her. "Peter Parker is your….son?"

For half a second the billionaire wished he hadn't gone through such extensive lengths to keep his son's identity hidden from the public. It's not that he was ashamed, he just wanted his son to grow up as far from the spotlight as possible. That meant a restraining order on the press that would end in a lawsuit if any pictures of his kid ended up in the papers or the news.

"Yes, he's mine. Now that we're all caught up, where is he???" Tony was impatiently bouncing his left leg, glancing around the lobby as if Peter would just magically be there.

"Oh-um, he's in the art room to your right. First door on the left in the hallway, there should be a sign that says 'Mr. Rogers' Art Room' and-"

"Great, fantastic. Thank you, bye," and with that, Tony sped off down the hall. 

He'd only been half paying attention to her explanation so when he approached the art room, he was immensely grateful for the bright, garish sign hanging on the door. Only stopping for a second to ponder what kind of cardigans an old man with the name 'Mr. Rogers' was parading around in, he shoved the door aside. His eyes zeroed in on his son, who was currently sitting at the table and drawing something that looked suspiciously like the Millenium Falcon.

"Daddy!!!" Peter screeched, knocking his chair over in his rush to get out of it and then practically launching himself at his father.

"Hey, spidermonkey!" Tony grinned, catching his son and tossing him up into the air before squeezing him in a tight hug. 

"I thought - I thought Unca Happy was gonna pick me up today! You surprised me!" Peter wrapped his tiny arms around his father's neck.

"Oh, really? A good surprise, I hope?" Tony couldn't stop smiling, he really had missed his boy while he was away.

Someone cleared their throat to the left of him.

Tony turned, fully expecting to come face to face with a crotchety old man. An old man who would tell him off for being so late but would, ultimately, be pacified once he saw it was THE Tony Stark. A bit of schmoozing here, an apologetic look there and the billionaire would be on his way to do fun things with his son.

Imagine Tony's surprise when Mr. Rogers isn't some half decomposed corpse but a man in the prime of his life with shoulders for days. This man was built like god damn Adonis. Who gave him the right??? With chiseled features and perfectly pushed back blonde hair and those sparkling blue eyes and their cold fury and - wait hold on a second...was he? Was he glaring at Tony?

"Hey, you must be Peter's father," the blonde held out Peter's backpack, it had the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it.

"And you must be Mr. Rogers," Tony drawled, looking the teacher over. "Although I gotta say, I expected more sweaters and khakis and less long legs and rippling muscles."

That seemed to take the teacher aback. "I...I don't-" 

“I mean, like, seriously. You look like you eat nails for breakfast and lift trucks over your head, Macho Man, nowhere near wrangling first graders into finger painting,” Tony was off on a tangent now, Peter balanced on his hip while he used his free hand to sling his son’s bag over his shoulder and gesture along to his rant.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate, Mr-”

“You know what’s not appropriate? How tight that shirt is,” The genius huffed. “I mean did you buy it a couple sizes too small on purpose or do your muscles just do that-”

“Mr. Stark, please!” the teacher’s face was flushed red and the previous angry look on his face was now a mix of confusion and embarrassment as the blonde struggled to comprehend what was happening right now.

“So how does the late thing work, Rogers? Do I owe you money for the time I kept you here? Is there someone I talk to, blood oath, small animal sacrifice? What’s the deal?” Tony cut to the chase, wanting to go out and do something with his son before dark.

The art teacher’s bitch face returned full force, this time accompanied by him folding arms across his chest which, in all honesty, distracted the billionaire entirely from the task at hand. “There’s no late fee, but if there were? It’d probably be pretty steep. Peter’s here past six almost every day. I don't-"

“Oh, wait! Daddy, I wanna show you somethin’!” Peter wiggled down out from his father’s arms and shot across the art room towards the drying racks. “Mr. Steve, is it ok if I take my painting home tonight?” The boy stopped inches away from swiping yesterday’s painting, turning to aim a pair of puppy eyes at the teacher.

Rogers noticeably softened, giving the first grader a small nod and a smile. “It’s almost Friday, you can go ahead and take all your projects home.”

Peter immediately scooped up his papers and bolted back to his father. He lifted up a piece done in watercolor. There was a streak of blue at the top and green at the bottom to set the scene, and in the middle was five figures and a big, orange scribble next to them. Tony crouched down next to his son to take a closer look at the painting.

“Yesterday, in art class, Mr. Steve told us to draw somethin' we love for Valentines Day,” Peter explained. “So I wanted to draw you an’ me, but then I was like: I can’t just draw you an’ me without Unca Happy, Rhodey, and Mizz Potts!” The boy explained like it was the easiest thing in the world to understand.

“It’s absolutely stunning, Pete. We’ll have to show them as soon as possible and not a second later. It’s decided,” Tony nodded like it was official business, making his son giggle. He pointed to the orange blob floating to the left of Pepper. “What’s this?”

“That’s JARVIS, silly!” Peter looked at his father as though he were crazy. “I don’t know what his body looks like, but I’m pretty sure he’s orange.”

“You are 100% correct, what was I thinking? Of course that’s J, looks just like him. He’ll be so happy to know you were thinking of him,” Tony pointed to the smile drawn on the sun in the corner of the page. “Is this like the sun from the Teletubbies? You put a baby face on your sun, punk?” 

Peter giggled and shoved his dad’s hand away from the page. “No, that’s mama,” the six year old informed him, voice softer than it had been just a few seconds prior. “Ned said when his grandma died that she went upstairs to heaven and now she watches over him and his family. I don’t know about heaven or nothin’, but I think that mama is probably watching over me like the sun or somethin’.”

Tony’s smile had slipped off his face, and a quick glance over his shoulder told him ‘Mr. Steve’ was just as lost for an answer as he was.

“Oh, I see it now,” Tony managed to spit out after a moment’s hesitation. “Well, there we go. Aren’t we just a regular Brady Bunch?” 

The genius rose back to his feet, readjusting the backpack still slung over his shoulder. He offered a hand out to his son, who eagerly grabbed on, then shot an awkward smile to the teacher who had stood there and witnessed the entire offbeat conversation that had just taken place.

“Thanks for watching my little monster and making sure he didn’t impale himself on a paint brush, or something,” Tony gave a slight nod to the blonde.

“Peter’s a sweet boy, it’s no trouble at all,” Rogers looked like he had something more he wanted to stay, but after a beat of awkward silence, it was obvious he wasn’t going to talk any time soon.

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Steve!” Peter called out as they made their way out of the art room. 

As Tony buckled his son into his car seat, he glanced to the picture of their little ragtag family next to them. The guilt of not spending any time with him this weekend started to eat at him.

“Hey, underoos. What do you want for dinner? I’ll take you out for whatever you want.”

“Ice cream!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes I might've made! I'll fix them as soon as possible.


	3. Uprising

"How in the hell was I supposed to know that, when my student said his dad worked for Stark Enterprises, it meant he's literally the face of the entire damn company!" Steve groaned, burying his face into his arms at the diner table he was seated at.

"I mean, it could be worse," Bucky, Steve's childhood friend, muttered as he looked over the menu in front of him.

The blonde peeked up out of his arms to shoot his friend a scathing look. "Oh, really, Buck? Do enlighten me."

"You could have told him to his face how much you hate his guts. With that narcissism issue of his going on, I'm sure he would have LOVED that," Bucky muttered, running a hand through his shaggy, brown hair in exasperation. 

"I almost did!" Steve continued on with his rant like he'd barely heard a word. "I was fully prepared to let him have it for keeping his six year old at aftercare for hours!"

"What's stopping you?" The brunette was scrolling through his phone now, letting the teacher get it out of his system.

"I started to, but then Peter was grabbing his art off the rack and showing it to his dad and talking about his mom up in heaven and GEEZ. What kind of an asshole would I be to tear into the guy after all that?" The veteran tossed his hands up in frustration.

"Woah, mom?" Bucky was suddenly interested in the conversation now. No matter what he said otherwise, he lived for digging into other people's business. It was a bad habit. He was working on it. "I figured his mom was just that CEO lady Stark's dating."

"Pepper Potts?"

"Yeah, they were dating for a while so I guess I just assumed-"

"James Buchanan Barnes, you big gossip!" Steve laughed, raising a skeptical brow at his friend who was suddenly intently surveying the menu yet again. "Do you not have anything better to do than sit around all day and read tabloids?"

Bucky pointed a metallic finger over at Steve, squinting over at him accusingly, "The man randomly chose me, of all people, to outfit with prototype Stark prosthetics. Sue me for keeping tabs on the guy."

“Do your tabs happen to be Tiger Beats magazine?”

“Do I look like a thirteen year old girl to you, punk?”

“Hey!” Steve chuckled, shaking his head at Bucky who was staring daggers into him from over top the list of specials. “You can’t call me a punk anymore. I’m not some scrawny li’l shrimp from Brooklyn now. I’ve got like two inches on you now.”

“Doesn’t matter, cause I’ve still got two inches more where it counts,” Bucky muttered, glancing down under the table.

“Aw, Buck - c’mon! That’s gross!” Despite his protests, Steve couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Not at the table, and on a Sunday, no less. What would your mom say?”

“She’d eat me alive an’ then Becca’d cheer me on from where ma can’t see,” Bucky rested his head onto his mechanical arm, tossing the menu to the blonde. 

Steve rolled his eyes, placing the menu to the side. “We’re getting off topic. I’m just saying, it was an inopportune time to let this guy get his just desserts. If he ever shows his face again I’m really going to give it to him.”

“Still?” Bucky leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t the whole ‘single dad’ thing put stuff into perspective for you? Like, being a parent all by yourself is hard enough on your own, but add in the fact that you’re Tony fuckin’ Stark and own one of the biggest businesses in the world...I’m not saying it excuses his actions, but it makes sense why he can’t pick up little what’s-his-face everyday.”

“What the hell? Where is all this insightful, understanding attitude bullshit coming from?” Steve made a face like his best friend being reasonable was a personal slight against him.

“My therapist told me to work on empathy. Now stop tryna dodge my questions,” Bucky huffed, folding his arms against his chest and pinning the blonde with an accusatory look. “Your mom was a single parent, Steve. You know how hard it was for her at times.”

The teacher seemed to deflate a little bit at that. It was like the fight had flew out of him the moment his mother was mentioned. He knew his best friend hadn’t purposely brought up his mom to antagonize him, it was more that he was disappointed in himself for letting his protective streak take him over like that in the first place.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Steve admitted with a sigh. “It’s just that Peter is such a bright and amazing kid and it makes me upset that his father is going to miss out on all of that. I mean, you should just hear the stuff he talks about once he realizes someone is actually listening! He just needs attention, something he doesn’t get enough of at home and-what are you doing? Get that look off your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do. It’s the look you get on your face before you make a snide comment like the slimy bastard you are. It’s the slimy bastard look, and I want it off your face effective immediately.”

“You totally have baby fever, Stevie,” There it was. That slimy bastard.

“I do not! You’re reading into this too much,” Steve's face went red as he folded his arms and glared down at the table.

"I'm not saying that's a bad thing, man. It just makes sense why you're being so overprotective of this kid," Bucky rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his water.

For a brief second, Steve almost missed the emotionally inept Bucky from his childhood. The brute who used to tease him for feeling anything besides hunger or casual indifference. 

But things had changed after Bucky was enlisted to the army almost immediately after high school. It wasn’t something he had ever been especially interested in, but when your country’s calling, you can’t just put down the phone. At least, that’s what Steve had been saying at the time. Frustrated that his laundry list of medical issues prevented him from being enlisted himself. 

He had asthma, he was deaf in one ear, poor eyesight, a weak immune system, and on top of that: he was tiny. 

Despite what everyone said otherwise, Steve Rogers was strong and he would fight for his country. He worked hard and got as strong as he could. With a well-timed growth spurt and the support of an incredibly intelligent scientist, Dr. Erskine, he got himself a spot in the army.

After a lot of trouble to prove that Steve could, in fact, handle himself just fine, he finally got to join the 107th Regiment and his childhood friend.

The blonde had been over the moon to finally fight alongside Bucky, but when he got to camp he had realized he might never get the chance. Over half the regiment had been captured by the opposing side, a dangerous organization named Hydra, with no chance of getting them back. Or so Colonel Phillips had stated. It was hard for Rogers to take those odds lying down. So, with the help of Agent Carter, a pompous tech genius he didn’t care much for, and a small plane, he parachuted down onto enemy lines. 

Steve had fought tooth and nail to save his best friend and hundreds of other men who had sacrificed everything for their country. He helped free over four hundred men. He made the front of the newspaper back home.

The soldier created a small group of the men he trusted most and they earned the nickname The Howling Commandos as they fought long and hard that year to turn the tide against the Hydra.

Of course, that didn’t stop Bucky from falling, quite literally, into the enemy’s hands yet again. Although this time he had been announced killed in action. Rogers had seen the lackey who shoved him off of the speeding train into oblivion with his own eyes, and even his stubborn demeanor couldn’t bring someone back to life. His friend’s death had forced him into fighting even harder. He was convinced if he was stronger, had done better, he might’ve been able to save the man who had meant the most to him.

It wasn’t long before Steve burnt himself out and Agent Carter and the Colonel ordered him into going back home. They gave him the paperwork for his Honorable Discharge with twin sympathetic smiles and put him on ice, so to speak. He was benched.

Then three years later there were pictures from troops stationed in Russia of an enemy sniper with shaggy, brown hair and a Hydra symbol on the back of his uniform. Even through the scruff and the dark bruises under his eyes, Steve could tell right away that, somehow, that was his Bucky.

It had been hard to get him back from Hydra, and it didn’t help that the brunette was fighting them on it every step of the way. Little did anyone know that getting him to the states would be the easiest part of the entire mess. When James Buchanan Barnes finally came home he was missing his arm and the majority of his memories beyond the time he spent as an assassin in Russia. 

Even five years later there were better days than others. 

Therapy had helped, obviously. But it came with the unattractive side effect of giving Bucky the ability to psychoanalyze everything that Steve was doing. 

Like right now how, as the blonde ordered his lunch, his childhood friend waggled his eyebrows at him from across the tiny two-person table.

“Would you stop that?” Steve hissed as soon as the waitress hurried back to the kitchen. “And, yeah. Maybe I’m a little over protective, but it doesn’t seem like anybody else is giving him the time of day!”

“You just need to get laid,” Bucky nodded his head like he cracked the code, ignoring everything his friend had just said.

“God, now you sound just like Natasha,” Steve groaned miserably, covering his face with his hands. “You know she attempts to set me up with a new blind date every week? I don’t even know where she finds all these people...”

“Well?” Bucky motioned for the other to keep talking. “Have any of them put the moves on you, Mr. Prude?”

Steve scoffed, “I don’t actually go on any of the dates she tries to force me into. The last person to try and put the moves on me was Peter’s no-good asshole of a father.”

“Woah, hold on. Now THAT’S interesting,” Bucky shot up, nearly falling out of his chair with how quickly he leaned forward. The drinks rocked dangerously. “Are you telling me THE Tony Stark was hitting on you? Right in front of his kid?”

“I mean, yes? I don’t know!” Steve’s face was heating up and he desperately wished he could take back the entire last five minutes of their conversation. This was torture. “I’m sure it hardly constitutes as flirting. Just a couple of comments about how I look and-”

“Did he mention your shirt? Please tell me he mentioned your shirts.”

“What? I - what’s wrong with my shirts???”

“They’re like way too small, Stevie.”

“Ok, you know what? I’m done. No more work talk. How’s therapy going, Buck?”

“Low blow, punk. Low blow,” the brunette shook his head, giving Steve an unamused look. 

However, the topic of conversation had been changed and that was good enough for him. The only thing he hated more than relaxing with his thoughts was talking about dating. He just wasn’t ready, after everything he’d been through. 

Besides, he was perfectly content with the way things were currently. 

Even as his eyes drifted over towards the young couple in the corner booth of the diner and how their young kid looked at them with stars in their eyes.

Steve was perfectly content.

-

“Since Valentine’s Day is this Friday, we’re going to spend this week making all sorts of fun, Valentine’s themed things. You can make cards, or decorations, or anything you’d like as long as it has to do with the holiday,” Steve informed the class in front of him, gesturing to the multitude of different crafting materials spread out across the back counter. “I’ve already got a bunch of supplies out, but if there’s anything else you think you need, just let me know!”

With that, a crowd of excited elementary schoolers kicked out of their seats and rushed towards the hoard of craft items. All the students except for one, that is.

Peter sat at the table he settled into when he first came in, chin resting on top of his arms as he glared daggers into the wall across from him. It usually took the boy a little while to warm up and talk, but this was something entirely different. Something the teacher hadn’t seen before. He looked downright grumpy.

“Hey, Spiderman, is everything ok?” Steve asked gently, squatting down next to his chair.

“No. Everything is bad, and I don’t want to make no Valentines for nobody,” Peter huffed, kicking his legs into the linoleum floor frustratedly.

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound fun at all. Do you want to talk about it?” The art teacher tried leaning down a bit, to catch his student’s eye. It worked, the kid glancing over at him and softening just a bit. “No Valentines at all?”

“Maybe one for Ned,” Peter mumbled, sitting up from where he had been slouched over. “Maybe one for Unca Rhodey, too.”

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure both of them would be overjoyed to get a card from you,” Steve smiled, patting the boy’s back before standing up.

“I’ll have to make one for Liz, she’s a fourth grader and she has really pretty hair. If I make her one I should probably make some for her friend Betty too, though…” Peter continued to babble to himself about who he’s making gifts for as he wandered to the counter to grab construction paper and glitter glue.

Though the boy was distracted for the moment, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what had the normally content boy so distraught. As he walked around the room, helping other students with increasingly elaborate art projects, he kept an eye on Peter.

The rest of class went by without a hitch, the teacher beginning to doubt that the first grader had ever been in a bad mood at all. Maybe he had read too much into it and the boy just had a case of the Mondays.

By 5:30, like usual, it was just Ned and Peter left in the room. Steve was trying in vain to pick up an overturned bowl of sequins that he would most likely be cleaning out of the rug for the rest of the school year when he heard a knock on the door frame.

Figuring it was Ned’s parents like usual, he continued to tidy up. 

“Woah, Peter! Look, it’s Tony Stark!!” Ned called out, the teacher could hear the legs of his chair scraping against the flooring as he stood up quickly.

“That’s my stupid dad,” Peter huffed quietly after a moment of uncomfortable silence, his voice taking on that grumpy tone yet again.

Steve peeked his head up over top of the table. Sure enough, the billionaire was back in his class room, standing awkwardly next to his son. Tony looked a bit hurt at the lack of reaction from his kid, but not surprised. The teacher couldn’t help but wonder what had happened since Friday to make Peter so cold towards his father.

Dammit, Steve was just as bad as Bucky. This wasn’t any of his business.

“Hey, kiddo. How was your day at school?” Tony asked in a decidedly Not-Tony-Stark-From-TV tone of voice. 

“I’m in aftercare right now. Go away,” Peter didn’t so much as look up at his father as he used the patterned scissors to cut the edges of his card into zig-zags.

Steve stood up, completely shocked at the normally well-behaved boy’s attitude.

“I’m here to pick you up, buckaroo. It’s time to go home,” Tony said softly, resting one hand on his son’s shoulder.

“No. I’m not going with you!” He yelled back, jerking his shoulder out of his father’s reach and angrily scribbling onto his paper with a crayon.

At this point even Ned looked like he had no idea what to do, he glanced to Steve like the teacher would have any idea how to handle this. Tony similarly confused.

Maybe it was because it was frankly uncomfortable seeing the genius without a know-it-all smirk on his face or just because this was getting sad, but Steve decided to have mercy on the billionaire. He went to grab Peter’s bag off a hook by the door.

“C’mon, bud. Your dad’s here! You can go home now,” Steve tried to give the kid a reassuring smile, but it only proved to make the child even more upset.

Peter slammed his crayon down and slumped back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “No! If daddy doesn’t have no time for me, then I don’t have no time for him neither!”

A glance at the boy’s father showed that Tony was getting flustered. Not even those fancy thousand dollar shades could hide the look of guilt that flashed briefly across his face.

“Peter, now’s not the time for this. We can talk about it once we get home,” Tony was starting to get frustrated, his voice hardening. “Now get up and get in the car so we-”

“Bullshit!” Peter hollered, stamping his foot down as hard as he could.

Ned gasped, Tony’s eyes widened, Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Language!” The teacher said on instinct. This hadn’t been the first time one of his students had cursed in his room, but none of the other offenders had said it so loudly or to their parents. Certainly none of them had been a typically well-mannered first grader before all this either.

“It’s not fair! I’m not going! Bullshit!” the six year old was throwing a full-on tantrum now, and Tony had just about had it.

“That’s enough outta you, son. You’ve got two options here,” The man started, bending at the waist so he could look his unruly child in the eyes. “One; you can walk out to the car yourself like a big boy. Or two; I pick you up, kicking and screaming, and take you to the car on my own. Your choice.”

The two adults waited for an answer with bated breath.

Peter sat there, glaring stubbornly at the space in front of him, obviously thinking over his options. It wasn’t long before the boy stuck his nose up in the air, scooted his chair back up to the table, and picked up a marker to resume coloring. His decision had been made.

Tony rolled his eyes and straightened back up. While he wasn’t going to back out of his ultimatum, he looked reluctant to upset his son even further. 

Luckily, the billionaire was used to causing a scene.

As soon as Tony reached for Peter and lifted him out of his chair, the six year old was instantly wriggling and screaming like he was being attacked. Despite the first grader being small for his age, it looked like a struggle to keep the livid boy contained. Especially since the genius wasn’t all that big himself.

“I said no! Lemme go! You’re stupid an’ dumb!” Peter continued to hurl insults and tiny fists at his father, even as Tony glanced over at Steve, nodding to the door.

“Can you carry his bag for me? Thanks,” Tony was already outside the classroom before the teacher could respond.

The blonde huffed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Ned’s bag as well, directing him to the gym. By the time Steve had his only remaining student settled, the sound of Peter’s mean words and yelling had devolved into loud crying, heard from across the parking lot, as he simultaneously tried to push his father away and pull him closer.

“Is he going to be okay?” The teacher asked warily as he watched Tony maneuver his agitated child into the carseat and tug the restraints in place.

“He’s just tired,” The man answered quickly, like Steve hadn’t totally heard Peter calling his dad out for never spending time with him just ten minutes prior. “Nothing a nap won’t fix. Thanks for carrying his bag, supernanny.”

Steve wanted to say something so badly. Say something about how this is all Tony’s fault. That if he just gave his son the time of day, they wouldn’t be fighting like that.

Now would be the perfect time too, as Tony took the backpack from the blonde and tossed it into the backseat, slamming the car door shut after it. The genius pushed his shades to the top of his head and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Now was his chance.

“Mr. Stark, I…” As Tony looked up at Steve, the teacher could see the dark circles under his eyes. Which, altogether, wasn’t all that surprising. He was a genuine billionaire businessman, after all. But paired with the tense way his shoulders were bunched up and the fact he wasn’t bothering with the effort of putting on a knowing smirk like he did for the press, it made him look worn down. Almost like a kicked puppy or something equally as pathetic.

“Everything good up on Mars, Space Cadet?” Tony snapped his fingers, trying to bring Steve back from wherever he had drifted off to in his thoughts.

The puppy eyes were forgotten entirely and the blonde’s irritation was back full-force. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that you shut one of Peter’s bag straps in the car door.”

Tony’s head snapped around to look at the single strap that had, indeed, caught up in the door slamming fiasco.

“Have a good evening, Stark,” and with that, Steve turned back to the Rec Center so he could finish cleaning his classroom. 

Man, that guy was a giant prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually posting Friday's chapter before eleven at night, break out the fuckin champagne! Let's celebrate.
> 
> As for next week's chapter, I'm not sure if I can have it posted that Friday. At latest, It will be posted Sunday. I'm taking a week off work for a college thing that's seven hours away from my house so I'm not sure when I'll be uploading but it'll be anywhere from six in the morning Friday to Sunday evening. Just a head's up.


	4. Break It To Me

Genius. Playboy. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Absolutely shocked by the little boy dozing on top of his teenage mutant ninja turtles blanket right now.

In the six and a half years that Tony had been raising Peter, never had he seen a tantrum like that before. At least, never one in public anyways. 

Of course they had fought before, they were both stubborn Stark men. They butted heads over small things all the time. That’s just it, though. SMALL things. Never full blown clawing and shrieking and cursing at him before.

Peter had been rather grumpy in the morning, it wasn’t all that surprising seeing as he was usually a bit more subdued after Tony spent the weekend working. 

Tony could still remember, in vivid detail, the look of disappointment on his son’s face Saturday morning. Happy had just come over with Pepper and the newest addition to the payroll, Natalie Rushman. The billionaire had just finished explaining to his son that he had some very important business to attend to over the weekend and that the very nice Ms. Rushman would be hanging out with him in the meantime. 

The puppy dog eyes had been in full force. It was gut wrenching.

With an assurance from Natalie that everything would be fine and a threat from Pepper to dismember him if they weren’t in the car fifteen minutes ago, Tony said his last goodbyes and finally trudged into the elevator and down to the garage. Almost immediately, he pulled up the video feed from the penthouse living room onto his cell.

“JARVIS, keep an eye on Peter, will you?” the inventor mumbled into his Stark Phone, sliding into the backseat of the car. “Silence all notifications on my phone, but if anything happens to Peter, I want to know about it. Even if you don’t think it's a big deal, like a scraped knee or something. I want to-”

“Tony, could you relax for just three minutes, here?” Pepper groaned, whacking the arm holding his phone with a manilla folder. “Nobody likes a helicopter parent.”

“You saw how upset he looked, Pep! I cannot, in good faith, leave my own flesh and blood to wallow in misery while I’m off schmoozing some greasy, old bastards from product management.” Tony was monologuing now, failing to notice the warning look on his ex’s face. “In fact, we should just turn around right now. You hear that Happy? Take a U-turn. This was a terrible idea and I’m going back to the penthouse right this-”

“You are going to this meeting even if I have to carry you to the board room in a body bag,” Pepper slapped the file against his chest this time, commanding his attention.

“Will that be all, Miss Potts?” Tony mumbled, crossing his arms like a petulant child despite the actual fear that ran through him from the stern look in the CEO’s eyes.

“That’ll be all, Mr. Stark,” she gave him a saccharine smile before sitting back into her seat properly and opening the folder up across her lap. The genius tried his best to pay attention to her briefing, lest he face her wrath.

Through the entirety of the car ride and the countless meetings that plagued his weekend, he managed to forget his worries about his son being upset. While the business being conducted was dull and menial, it was enough to keep the man distracted. 

Peter wasn’t hurt once, JARVIS hadn’t a single notice for him either day.

The second he got back though, that was a different story.

Usually when Tony got back from business trips he was met with excitement and one of those heart-warming hugs that made every trial and tribulation worth it. This time, it was radio silence from his son who was sitting in the living room fiddling with his toy cars.

Natalie stood up from the couch and made her way over towards the billionaire. “Mr. Stark, welcome back. How were your meetings?”

“Absolutely wonderful, I truly enjoyed every second spent in that room listening to the speaker lower the I.Q. of everyone within a five mile radius. How’s my boy?” The genius muttered, not able to take his eyes off where Peter was completely ignoring him.

“He’s been totally fine the entire time you’ve been away,” She glanced from father to son. “Maybe a little upset that you had to go away for the weekend but I assume that’s to be expected seeing as-”

“Jarvis, I told you to tell me if something was wrong, why the hell didn’t you tell me anything was wrong?” Tony missed the way Natalie’s annoyance briefly rose to the surface at being completely ignored.

“There was nothing to report, sir. No scraped knees, no crying, not even a single sniffle,” The AI replied, almost sounding tired of the overbearing parenting routine.

“Alright, well. If that’ll be all, Mr. Stark?” Natalie asked, already slowly backing up towards the elevator.

Tony glanced back at her, like this was his first time seeing her since he arrived back to the tower, and waved a hand noncommittally. “Oh, yeah. I’m good, thanks. You did a great job and I’ll make sure your next paycheck reflects that, Thank you,” he muttered, already tossing his bags to the couch and heading towards his child. Natalie was already gone before he was done talking.

Peter continued to play with his matchbox cars, back turned to his dad.

“Hey, spidermonkey. How was your weekend?” Tony slowly made his way around the sulking six year old, trying to catch his eye.

The first grader just huffed and turned away so that he was facing away from his father once more.

“Oh, come on, Petey-Pop! What’s wrong?” Tony squatted down and reached out to rub Peter’s back. Immediately, the boy crumbled, turning to face him with watery eyes.

“You were gone all weekend and I was-I was-was just left here! All alone!” the boy whimpered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“But you had Natalie with you-”

“Didn’t want Miss Nat!” He yelled, frustrated tears slipping down his face as Tony scooped him up into his arms.

“Oh, Pete, I’m so sorry. I meant to be home this weekend, I really did, it’s just I couldn’t put off these meetings any longer than I already did, and-”

“You always say that,” Peter mumbled under his breath, shocking Tony for half a second.

“I’m sorry. How about I pick you up from school this week to make up for it, huh? How does that sound?” he asked, tugging his son closer in for a hug.

“But I wanna go to aftercare and draw with Ned and see Mr. Steve,” the boy sighed, wrapping his tiny arms around his father’s neck.

“Then I’ll pick you up from aftercare, capiche?” Tony patted him on the back, trying to stretch his neck back and look at his kid’s face.

“Capiche,” Peter giggled, wiping his nose on his dad’s shoulder before sprinting away.

“Hey, get back here you snot monster!” Tony cried out in fake anguish, jumping to his feet and running to where he could hear his son’s thundering footsteps through the halls.

After a crying episode like that one on Sunday, the genius had thought his son had gotten all the upset out of his system. 

Clearly, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He just wished he’d have been able to foresee his son throwing a ginormous tantrum in front of the entire Rec Center staff so he could have prevented it, or at least been somewhat ready for it. 

To top all of that, the Aftercare Explosion of February Tenth had been enough to knock Peter out on the way home while Tony had been trying to explain himself. Explain why sometimes things can’t work out like we want them to and that throwing fits like that wasn’t a way to get through life. Then, halfway through the drive, when he glanced back to see if his son was still listening, he had realized that the boy was out cold. Completely knocked dead, snoring and drooling with his neck at an angle fit for paranormal activity movies.

After Tony had maneuvered Peter out of the carseat and up to his bedroom, he had flopped back onto the couch. It took all of his willpower to not hightail it to the closest open bar just in order to avoid having to face the fact that this whole situation was his fault, and his fault alone. 

As it was, he had his phone in his hand, hovering over the button to call Natalie and see if she could come in short notice to watch Peter while he went out. He was practically shaking for a bottle of scotch right now. 

But things were different, Tony had somebody who depended on him. Tony had a son, and the last thing that his son needed right now was for his father to ditch him during his post-rampage nap just to get wasted and circumvent the entire problem that got the two into this mess.

The problem being his work and how he prioritized it over Peter.

Not that the genius intentionally put his job above his kid, like nobody hops into their car and starts driving to intentionally cause a ten car pile-up on the highway. Either way, at the end of the day it’s a burning hot mess of flaming garbage and nobody wants to actually sit down and admit that they’re the reason for the impromptu bonfire in the middle of the interstate.

Tony stared down to the Stark Phone resting in his hand, squinted at his reflection in the screen that had gone black due to idling for so long. Pepper was at a conference, Rhodey busy with some important military business, like usual. He could call Natalie and be out of there in fifteen minutes tops...

No, he wasn’t going to get drunk tonight. He wasn’t going to make things worse by leaving his son for the third time in a week. He’s Tony fucking Stark and he’s not going to sit here throwing a pity party for any longer than he already has.

Shoving up and away from the couch, the determined businessman marched to the kitchen, digging through the pantry for just about the only food he could manage to not fuck up beyond repair, spaghetti and meatballs. 

Peter would be hungry when he woke up, and a home cooked meal would do him some good. Not that it took a certified genius to boil pasta and toss jarred sauce and frozen meatballs into a pot, but for all that Tony could build a machine in the dark with both hands tied behind his back, the man knew fuck all about cooking. 

The extent of his cooking skills were throwing things into a big pot and only the simplest of baking. Like a ‘prepackaged cookie dough put onto a baking sheet that still ended up a little too crispy around the edges’ kind of baking. In fact, he was making his famous Totally-Not-Tollhouse cookies right now! Just to sweeten the deal after Peter had such a rough day.

Tony had just turned the heat off the stove and pulled plates out of the cabinet when he heard soft footsteps echoing from the hall. A glance behind him gave view to a messy mop of sleep tousled brown hair sneaking past the couch in the living room. Then before he knew it, there was a decidedly less grumpy, but still wary looking, Peter lurking in the corner of the kitchen.

It was quiet for a moment as father and son just stood, staring at each other.

“You hungry, Gizmo? ‘Cause if we don’t eat soon, it’ll be midnight, and everybody knows you can’t feed gremlins after midnight,” It was hardly even seven in the evening, but that wasn’t important.

Peter just stared at his dad, not saying a word or moving a muscle. 

Ok, so maybe he was still mad.

“Alrighty then, guess I’ll just have to eat all this spaghetti by my lonesome!” Tony sighed dramatically, piling food onto his plate like it was a chore. “Lone Rider Tony, saddling up to the table for some solitary grub...sure wish there was an ace-high cowboy who would come and save me from cashing in.”

He brought his food to the table but before he sat down, he made a show of humming and stroking his chin in thought. Back into the kitchen he went to pull out another, slightly smaller, plate and filled that one with food as well. 

“I’m so darn hungry I think I might just eat both of these plates!” he sighed, setting the smaller plate in front of the chair beside the one he just sank into.

It was quiet for a couple minutes as Tony began to eat his dinner, occasionally glancing over to where he could just barely see the top of Peter’s unmoving head over the counters. After three minutes passed, the boy slowly started to slip out of the kitchen towards the dining room where Stark pretended that he was too invested in spaghetti to notice the first grader slide across the floos to hide behind the chair opposite of him. 

There was a brief interlude where Peter spent a minute peeking out from behind the chair, jerking back behind it whenever his father moved. Tony figured he should sweeten the deal to really put his plan into motion.

“I must’ve overestimated how hungry I was,” he sighed, leaning his head onto his hand with a forlorn look at his half-empty plate. “I’ll never be able to finish all these noodles on my own. If only there was a certain special spider monkey who could come help me out, then we could eat the cookies I made for dessert too. Oh, well.”

Tony thought that would have been enough to get Peter interested, but a wave of disappointment filled him as he watched his son run away and back to his bedroom. God, he had really messed up this time if not even the promise of cookies could get his son to do something as simple as eating dinner with him. The urge to run away multiplied in tenfold, he ruined the one good thing in his life right now. All for some stupid business trips, he was so stupid and a pathetic excuse for-

Peter came running back to the table, falling to his knees behind it. After a couple seconds, the head of his favorite stuffed animal poked up above the surface of the table. 

It was a monkey from Build-A-Bear they had gotten before he started kindergarten. Tony had taken his son there when he was hesitant to start going to school, it was a friend to keep him company if he got upset during the day. Peter had dressed the toy in a red shirt and blue jeans and named him Spider Monkey after his father’s nickname for him.

“Have no fear, Spider Monkey’s here!” the six year old called out in a goofy voice that made it impossible for Tony not to smile. Peter pretended to walk his monkey over to the untouched plate of food and made the monkey look down at it. “I’m gonna help you finish your food, but only because I don’t wanna see you sad, da-I mean, random citizen.”

“Oh, thank you, Spider Monkey! You’re such a big help,” Tony grinned, reaching out to shake the stuffed animal’s paw. “I owe you my life. However can I repay you?”

“No thanks necess-ses-ses-ary, mister. You can just gimme some of your cookies,” the boy nodded, letting go of his toy for a second as he climbed into the seat next to his dad and began to eat.

Tony snorted, cookies always worked.

The two of them finished their dinners in relative quiet, Peter politely turning down the offer for seconds in favor of saving room for dessert. 

“Ok, Cookie Monster, I’ll get your dang sweets for you,” Tony teased, leaning over to poke at Peter’s ribs and make him laugh. “C is for couch, so meet me over there and we can watch something while we eat.”

His son scooped up Spider Monkey and bounced out of his chair and over to the living room. As he set the empty plates into the sink, he could hear Peter asking JARVIS to put on an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that he’s probably already watched a million times over. Tony grabbed the container holding the cookies and fell back onto the couch next to the boy, sending him up in the air a little bit.

They made it through half the batch of cookies and almost two episodes of the show before Tony cleared his throat, signaling to his AI to turn the volume down. It was time, he had stalled long enough. The two of them had to talk about what was going on between the two of them.

“Peter, are you happy?” God, that sounded lame. This was stupid, feelings are stupid. Tony didn’t know how to do this. Stark men didn’t do emotions.

“Yeah, I really like cookies,” he hummed, eyes still glued to the TV as he fished a small hand around blindly for another one.

“No, I mean...I’m sorry that I haven’t been home lately. It’s not fair for me to be out at work so much,” Tony tried to push through the uncomfortable. “I know you were upset with me this afternoon and I want to know what I can do to make it better.”

“I dunno,” Peter’s eyes were still trained on the show, but it was obvious he was no longer paying attention to it anymore as he curled up around his monkey. “I was with Ms. Natalie all weekend. She knows how to cook but she doesn’t read any of my stories right and she doesn’t hug me right or say goodnight right.”

“Is it Nat? I can get you a new babysitter if you don’t like her,” Tony reached over to put an arm around his son’s shoulder but was surprised when he immediately shoved him away.

“Noooo! I don’t want no dumb babysitter! Don’t want Natalie! I want you to be home but you’re always gone!” Peter was still shoving Tony, over and over as frustrated tears filled his eyes.

It was breaking his heart to see his son like this. Grabbing both of Peter’s wrists to stop him from hitting, he lowered his voice to something soft. “I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry.” Tony pulled the boy in close, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. “I’m not going anywhere this week, I promise you. I’m going to pick you up everyday like I said I would, and then on Friday we can go do something special for Valentine’s Day. Anything you want.”

Peter sniffled and looked up at his father with big, round puppy dog eyes. “Anything?”

“That’s what I said, squirt. Anything you want,” Tony planted a quick kiss on his forehead as the first grader seemed to pause, thinking about what he wanted to do.

“I want to build a-a lego Death Star with Ned from school,” he stated hopefully, tugging on his dad’s shirt. 

“Ok, I’ll talk to his parents and see if you two can hang out this weekend. Is that all you wanted, bub?”

“An’ I wanna hang out with Mr. Steve too,” Peter sat up in Tony’s lap, putting a hand on either side of his father’s face.

The genius had to stop himself from physically recoiling. “Rogers?” he asked incredulously. “You want to hang out with Mr. Rogers? Are you sure?”

“Daddy!!! You said anything!” Peter whined, puppy dog eyes in full force. “I’ll be so good, an’, an’ we can get those cheeseburgers you like an’ we do it right after art, pleeeease daddy!”

Jeez, he was laying it on thick. But damn if he didn’t feel guilty enough to fold like a deck of cards.

“I’ll think about it, ok?” Tony sighed, leaning back into the couch.

“Yayyy!” Peter cheered, standing up from his dad’s lap and bouncing across the couch cushions. “Jarvis can you turn the TV back up? I like this episode, in this episode Mikey hasta, um, he hasta help April when she accidentally sees one of the ninja dudes who is-”

The sound of his kid’s excited chattering fading into the background as Tony glared up at the ceiling, wondering just how in the hell he’s going to ask Mr. Rockin’ Bod Renaissance to dinner with him and six year old son without making it sound like he’s totally hitting on him. 

Genius. Playboy. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Absolutely dreading Friday afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my third time trying to post this chapter, I'm sorry it's so late! At least it means less of a wait between this week's chapter and the next one.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


	5. Agitated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for any mistakes in this chapter! I didn't have time to edit this as thoroughly as I would have liked to

Tuesday afternoon when Tony came to pick up Peter was awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t a repeat of the day prior by any means. Peter gave his dad a small smile when he came into the art room, and even answered when asked how his day had been. No, the first grader was just fine. It was looking at the business tycoon shaped elephant in the room eye-to-eye that was causing problems.

With every time that Steve happened to be in Tony’s presence, it seemed less and less appropriate to start an argument over the way he was raising his son. As it happens, the day after witnessing a six year old call out his own father in daycare feels just a bit too early for any of that.

So, with an air of professionalism that Sam would pat him on the back for and Natasha would roll her eyes at, the teacher handed off the backpack to Peter and wished him a good evening.

Tuesday just hadn’t been the right time to talk. Timing was important with these things if he actually wanted a chance to get through to Tony.

Wednesday hadn’t been a good day for it either. 

What, with Stark running into Ned’s parents and immediately throwing himself into a conversation with them. Which had been a surprise for not only Steve, but Mr. and Mrs. Leeds, as well. There were twin looks of shock written across their faces as someone who they’d only seen on a television screen beforehand was asking if their son could come over tomorrow and build a Lego Death Star.

It would have been weird for the blonde to waltz up and interrupt their play-date planning and call Tony a hack parent and ruin maybe the one good thing he’s seen him do for Peter. He’d have that chat tomorrow.

Except maybe Thursday wasn’t a good time either. 

Apparently the talk with Ned’s parents had gone better than expected, and Tony would be leaving with both Ned and Peter this afternoon. Ned had pulled a note from his parents to show Steve and everything. It would have been terribly inconsiderate to embarrass the genius in front of both of his students, so the art teacher gave the boys a big grin and made them promise that they wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

Today was probably the best way to do it, anyway. It was more than enough time after Monday’s fiasco, and since it was Friday, Tony would have time to thoroughly think through what he had to say over the weekend. 

There was no pushing this aside, anymore. It’s happening today. The two are going to have a chat. Man to man. Today. In a couple of minutes.

Steve was currently as far into the supply closet as he physically could get, sorting through stacks of construction paper and sorting it into color coded piles. He wasn’t hiding, wasn’t stalling as he heard a brief knock on the door frame! He wasn’t!

“Daddy!” Peter shouted out, making the teacher turn to where he could see the boy leap from his chair to give his dad a hug.

“Hey, Spider Monkey!” Tony called out, scooping his son off the ground. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah! My teacher brought cupcakes for lunch time an’ then, uhm, Mr. Steve gave us cookies for snack today!” Peter explained as he wiggled out of his father’s arms and went to gather the drawings he had been working on. “They were like the kind from the store. The white ones with the pink icing an’ the sprinkles an’ stuff.” 

“Sounds fantastic, all the teachers are conspiring against me specifically by sugarloading my pride and joy then sending him straight home,” Tony hummed, the smile evident in his voice. “Speaking of our friendly neighborhood Mr. Rogers. Any idea where he is, Mr. McFeely?”

“He’s in the closet,”

Steve stood up abruptly, hitting his head on the shelf he had been sorting the papers into. Nice phrasing, Peter. So much for playing it off like he hadn’t been listening in on their conversation. 

“Yeah, sorry! Just doing some spring cleaning in advance,” the veteran sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he shuffled his way through the maze of stacked tupperware bins and dusty old boxes to where Tony now stood in the doorway of the closet. “What can I do for you two?”

“You see, that’s the thing. It’s more like what can you do for me,” The genius hummed, curiously enough not making eye contact from behind today’s pink-tinted shades. “Are you free tonight?”

Steve tripped over a bucket of paint brushes, sending them sprawling across the linoleum. His eyebrows shot into his hairline and he stared at the man in front of him incredulously. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked if you had any plans tonight, Johnny Bravo,” Tony sighed like he hadn’t just said something straight out of the teacher’s nightmares. “I get it if you’ve got some little girlfriend or whatever waiting for you at home since it’s good ol’ Saint Hearts day, but if you’re free I’d really appreciate you coming to dinner with us.”

“I...girlfriend? I don’t-what, I’m sorry, us?” Steve struggled to find the words to explain just how terrible and insulting he found this entire situation. He’s seen this man approximately six times and never for longer than fifteen minutes. Never with anything but a cool, cordial attitude he saved for disagreeable parents. How on Earth could someone who was rumoured to be one of the top minds in the world possibly come to the conclusion that Steve would be amenable to a date when-

“Peter and I, yeah.” Tony was shifting around, from his arms hanging loosely to his sides to folded across his chest to shoved in his pockets. On anybody else it would have looked fidgety, but that was ridiculous. Tony Stark didn’t fidget. “It’s nothing serious. Don’t worry, Fortunato. I’m not bringing you home for a private wine-tasting in my basement anytime soon. I figured we’d just grab burgers at the joint down the road and then I’ll be out of your hair for a long time.”

“I...you and Peter?”

“Are you always so delightfully eloquent and well-spoken like this? I gotta say, it’s enough to charm the pants off even a flighty ol’ broad such as myself,” the billionaire drawled, fluttering his eyelashes. “I asked Peter what he wanted for Valentine’s Day and his list of demands were to build a big lego basketball with his pal from work and to go get dinner with ‘Mr. Steve.’” 

His first reaction was the sense of pride welling up in his chest at the thought of Peter wanting to spend time with him, but that was almost immediately dampened by the fact that his student wanted him to come eat dinner with him and his father. Not to mention that, while Steve wasn’t technically a real teacher, (more of a glorified babysitter, in all honesty) he still had no idea how he was supposed to react around his kids outside of the class. 

If Tony had asked him to babysit he wouldn’t have hesitated. The blonde adored Peter, but dinner just seemed too weird after only knowing them for such a short amount of time.

“I’m flattered he thought of me, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Steve tried to say it quietly to keep the little boy shoving his artwork into his bag from hearing. 

An odd look flashed across Tony’s face but it was gone so quickly that the teacher was nearly convinced he imagined it. If he hadn’t spent years in the military having to use his sharp senses to make his way through enemy territory, then he probably would have never noticed.

“Ok! Now that we’ve got that sorted out, I’m off to cheeseburger paradise. Have a good-”

“Mr. Steve! Did daddy tell you that you’re comin’ to dinner with us???” Peter had finished shoving the last of his projects into his bag and had skipped over, the human embodiment of honest to god sunshine.

“Oh, uh-yeah, he did. I don’t think I’ll be coming, though. I’m sorry,” Steve tried to explain it as gently as possible, keeping a comforting smile on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the boy’s good day.

“Whaddaya mean?” the six year old just looked plain confused. “Did your dad say you can’t come an’ eat with us tonight?”

“Well, no. He didn’t, but-”

“Then why aren’t you comin’?” Peter’s uncertainty was starting to shift to upset.

The teacher opened his mouth to give a list of reasons, but looking into those wide brown eyes, he couldn’t bring a single one to mind.

“I...guess you’re right, Peter,” Steve sighed, putting his hands on his hips and hanging his head in defeat. “I’ll lock this place up and meet you there.”

Tony looked awfully smug from where the blonde could see him in the corner of his eye. The urge to decimate him with an extensive list of all of his faults as a parent grew tenfold. It would be so easy to act on his petty urges and end this man’s whole career.

Steve grabbed his brown leather jacket off the hook next to the door to his art room and flicked off the lights.

He’d be petty as soon as he had a moment alone with Tony.

After an uncomfortable moment spared for the face of Stark Industries himself to type in the address of the diner into the teacher’s phone, he hopped onto his motorcycle and followed behind Tony’s fancy car that probably cost more than the entirety of Steve’s apartment complex.

Tony hadn’t been lying about a short drive. It took under ten minutes to get there from the Rec Center, and with New York traffic that was saying something.

From the outside it looked like any cheesy, old, family-friendly restaurant that his mom might have taken him to, for kids-eat-free nights or any of the like. The pang of nostalgia made Steve rub his chest over where his heart beat. He wondered if Tony or his son had picked out the place.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter bolting across the parking lot to his motorcycle. His father called after him, reprimanding him for running out in the street like that, but the boy was already too busy fawning over his teacher’s bike to care.

“Wow! Mr. Steve are you in a gang???” He yelled out, attracting the attention of half the parking lot and making the veteran laugh.

“I can assure you, I’m not. What makes you say that?”

“You got a big ol’ motorcycle!”

“Hell yeah, you do. What’s the make, hot shot?” Tony had caught up to his kid and immediately started to circle around the blonde’s bike. “Nothing recent, I can tell you that just by looking at it. She’s in killer condition though, who’s your maintenance man? Beauty like this needs proper care.”

“Red’s my favorite color! Did you paint it or was it man-uh-fractured like that?” There were practically stars in Peter’s eyes and his father looked just about the same. For the first time since he had found out that he was Tony Stark’s son, he could see the resemblance between the two.

Yes, at a passing glance you could imagine the two were related. With similar messy brown hair and a slightly shorter than average stature, there were a couple of common traits. The eyes were what made them undeniably connected to one another. They both had wide, expressive, brown eyes that lit up like lights on a Christmas tree the moment they were in front of something that excites them.

“She’s a 1936 Ariel Red Hunter,” Steve explained, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. “I try to keep her in good enough shape that I don’t need a maintenance man, but if something happens, I usually go to my friend Bucky for help. He’s a part-time mechanic.”

“He qualified to work on aged beauties like this?” Tony was bent at the waist, taking in all that he could of the bike without getting on his hands and knees to peer into the guts of the machine. It looked like he was about five seconds from doing that anyways, expensive suit be damned.

“No, but he’s got a basic idea,” the blonde rolled his eyes at the sharp, caustic look the billionaire sent his way. “Not all of us can afford to drop a couple grand on fancy, A-list motorcycle mechanics, Stark.”

“Right, of course. Dinner. Let’s eat,” Tony straightened up, shoving one hand into his pocket and reaching the second out to take Peter’s hand. “Try holding my hand when you cross the street this time. As much as I love pancakes, I’m not sure how much I’d enjoy my son being squished into one.”

The boy giggled and called his dad silly, but gladly held onto him as they made their way from the parking lot to the front lobby to the diner.

Right away Steve was hit with a rush of noise that had his hand shooting up to adjust the volume on the hearing aid in his left ear, the combination of about forty different conversations taking place and music playing over the restaurant speakers overwhelming him instantly. The settings for a quiet classroom were too sensitive for a bustling diner like this. 

While the teacher fiddled with his ear piece, Tony had gone ahead and requested a table for the three of them and the hostess started to lead them to their table.

Peter hung back, letting go of his father’s hand to grab onto Steve’s instead.

“Everytime daddy comes back from a long trip, we come her for cheeseburgers and ice cream,” the first grader informed him before crawling into the booth they had been led to. It was a corner booth, one of the seats that were wrapped in a circle around the table so both adults could sit on either side of Peter.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of ice cream do you like the best?” Steve asked after their waitress asked what drinks they’d like.

“I like mint chocolate chip,” He said confidently as he scribbled onto the paper children’s menu with the provided crayons. “Oh, but also strawberry ice cream. And vanilla. Also the kind that comes in a box and tastes like girl scout cookies. Oh, and-”

“We try something new every time we come here,” Tony cut in, not unkindly, from where he sat staring at the menu. Peter nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah! Like one time we got gummy bears on the ice cream!”

“And they were rock solid. Pete knocked out a tooth on one of them,” Stark was grinning down at his son.

“Then the tooth fairy came!”

“Sounds exciting,” Steve smiled. Why had he been so nervous about getting dinner with these two? This was going fine! There wasn’t any tension or animosity between the two and they were all talking, maybe this would be a good thing. The blonde’s friends were always bugging him about going out and doing something new. This was going just fine.

Until Peter started talking.

The boy was too interested in finding his way out of the maze on his paper to keep the conversation going any further. This was awkward. The silence was killing Steve. He had already picked what he was going to order two minutes ago and now he was just continuing to read the menu for lack of anything better to do.

“So how long have you been teaching?” Tony asked after a brief couple minutes of quiet. 

The teacher nearly jumped out of his skin before letting his menu drift back down to the table and responding. “Couple of months now.”

“Oh, really? Just a couple of months and you’re already a regular Miss Honey?”

“Miss...Honey?”

“The teacher from Matilda,” Tony informed Steve and was met with only a blank stare in return. “Whatever, that wasn’t my best work, alright? Especially since that’d make me the Wormwoods. I was just saying that you’re a hell of a teacher for someone who just started out.”

“I hardly think it counts as teaching,” The blonde shrugged, leaning back into the booth seats. “Most of the time it just feels like glorified babysitting.”

“I have a babysitter!” It seems that Peter had finished his maze. “Her name is Miss Nat and she’s real pretty.”

“What a coincidence, I have a friend named Nat too!” Steve smiled down at the first grader who was shoving his knees underneath him in an attempt to be eye to eye with his teacher. “She’s also pretty, but don’t tell her I said that ‘cause I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I don’t want Miss Natalie to be my babysitter anymore, she doesn’t read any of my books right. Doesn’t use any of the voices,” Peter flopped over, wrapping both his tiny arms around Steve’s considerably larger one. “I want you to be my babysitter now. You can do really good drawings an’ you like superheroes an’ I bet you could throw me like a basketball too. That would be cool.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, but I’d hate for Miss Natalie to miss out on hanging with you!” Steve glanced up at Tony as he said that, hoping the look conveyed how little he wanted this conversation to end with the billionaire firing his babysitter. 

It seemed the message had been received as the genius waved his hand flippantly. “Natalie’s my assistant. There’s plenty of things for her to do beyond watching my mini monster,” Tony hummed. “Honestly, I think she’d be relieved. She puts on a brave face but I don’t think she’s all that into childcare.”

Peter jumped to his father’s side as if magnetized. “So can Mr. Steve be my new babysitter? Pleeeeease? I’ll make you ‘sketti if you say yes!” the little boy begged, grabbing fistfuls of his dad’s suit jacket and tugging insistently.

“That’s not my decision, buckaroo. Mr. Rogers might has his own things going on,” Tony informed his son while sweeping him off the booth suit and tossing him back down so that he landed on his back with a bounce. “Although I’m sure if we say pretty please and give him puppy dog eyes he won’t be able to resist.” He grinned, looking up to the blonde and fluttering his eyelashes at him.

“That’s a dirty trick, and you know it, Stark. How am I supposed to say no to the puppy dog eyes?” Steve scoffed, unable to hide the smile that crossed his face when he saw Peter peering up at him from the booth seat with wide eyes and his bottom lip jutted out in a fake pout.

“You can’t. You can’t say no to the eyes. Not unless you don’t have a soul,” Tony leaned back in his seat, sitting triumphantly like he’d already won.

“C’mon, Mr. Steve!” the first grader pleaded, pushing himself upright and clasping his hands in front of himself. “I’ll even draw you as a superhero if you say yes, you can be my sidekick!”

“Well how on Earth could I say no to that?” Steve tossed his hands up in defeat. “Now I have to say yes, just so I can be your sidekick.”

“So...yes?” the kid asked hesitantly, like he needed explicit permission before he could celebrate.

“Yes, Peter. I’ll be your babysitter if you really want me to,” There was instantly loud cheers coming from the boy as he hopped up onto his seat and threw his arms up in success.

Steve laughed at his excitement and did his best to get him to calm down just enough so that they weren’t garnering the stares of other restaurant patrons any more. It really was sweet how excited Peter was to hang out with him.

The rest of the dinner went well. The three got their meals and Steve had to admit that despite the obnoxiously loud atmosphere of the diner, they made some damn good cheeseburgers. 

By the time Peter finished up the chocolate and peanut butter ice cream he had shared with his father, he was starting to yawn. The bill had been paid five minutes ago and the tip laid out on the table. Tony reached over to pat his son on the back.

“As fun as this evening’s been, Rogers, I think it’s time for us to head back home,” The genius muttered, sliding out of the booth and gently tugging his sleepy kid along with him. “Methinks our superhero over here is tired after working hard all day to keep the city safe.”

“Not tired,” Peter grumbled right away, rubbing at his eyes before making grabby hands up at Steve.

“What’s up, Peter?” the teacher asked as he got up from his seat as well.

“Carry me. Daddy gets tired too quick, says ‘m too big,” The tired boy mumbled, continuing to reach up towards the blonde. 

“Hey! What makes you think Mr. Rogers can carry you any better than I can?”

“He’s bigger than you.”

“Ok! If I carry you to your dad’s car, will you promise to drop this conversation?” Steve asked, already pulling the boy up to sit on his hip. As soon as the words had left Peter’s mouth, he had seen Tony puffing up to argue against being called short.

“Wow, I’m really feeling the love tonight kiddo. Nothing says ‘I love you, pops’ more than asking your art teacher to carry you to the car instead of your dear old dad,” Tony teased, leading the way out of the still busy restaurant. “No, no, please. I enjoy feeling like chopped liver. Don’t mind me.”

“You’re silly, daddy,” Peter giggled, before sticking his face into Steve’s shoulder to hide from the cool evening breeze that rushed in through the doors to the parking lot.

“I’ll show you silly,” Tony muttered as he unlocked the car doors and reached to take his son out of Steve’s arms. The six year old gave a small wave goodbye to his teacher as he was put into his carseat.

As soon as he was strapped in, Tony shut the door to the car and turned to Steve. He held out his hand expectantly.

There was an awkward pause.

“Well?” the genius raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Well what?”

“Are you going to give me your phone so I can put in my contact information or do I have to go hound the front desk at the Rec Center for your number?”

“Oh! Right, the babysitter thing,” Steve muttered as he pulled his phone out from his back pocket and handed it over to Tony.

The billionaire looked personally offended at the piece of technology that had been placed into his hands.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Please, dear god, tell me you did not just put a flip phone into my hand just now,”

“What’s wrong with my phone?”

“Nothing except for the fact that nobody’s used one of these things since the goddamn stone ages! Where’d you get this fossil from, Fred?” Tony was looking at him like he was crazy, even as he flipped the phone open and punched in his name and number.

“I’ve had it for years and it hasn’t stopped working yet,” Steve countered, feeling just a bit defensive over his lack of knowledge relating to anything technical while in front of a certified genius.

“If you’re going to be my son’s babysitter then we need to upgrade that relic ASAP. What if you have to call me in the middle of an emergency and it sounds like you’re speaking through a thunderstorm with all the interference that piece of shit provides?” Tony scoffed.

“Are you really ok with this?” It had been gnawing at the back of Steve’s mind all throughout dinner. “You don’t know anything about me besides my name and where I work, and you’re letting me take care of your son.”

There was a brief pause as Tony’s usual smirk morphed into something more thoughtful as he squinted up at Steve. It was as if he was trying to figure him out just by staring at him.

“You’re an art teacher at an aftercare program for elementary school children. They don’t just let ANY creepy, crawley, crazy serial killers work in a place like that, and if they did, they probably wouldn’t waste the energy it takes to make friends with the kids like you are,” Stark rambled, waving his hand through the air like all of this was obvious, textbook information.

“Maybe I’m just a really good actor.”

“Trust me, Rogers. No theater nerd has a body like that, I can tell you right now.”

Steve folded his arms to self-consciously cover his chest. He could feel the brunette staring holes into him before those brown eyes snapped back up to meet his.

“And Peter likes you,” Tony was being serious now, a tone of voice void of any sarcasm he might use with the press or playfulness he uses with his son. “He’s so comfortable around you and maybe that might make it easier for him when I’m out on business trips. I hate upsetting him like that, so maybe having someone he actually likes around while I’m away might help.”

“That’s understandable, but have you ever considered not leaving him on his own so often?” Tony froze the second those words left Steve’s mouth.

Any of the serious, honest atmosphere that had built up in the last couple of minutes that remained was shattered like old glass. There was an icy glare coming from behind the billionaire’s shades that he still wore even in the dim parking lot.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Tony said abruptly, turning towards the driver’s door and sliding into his car without another word.

Steve had to bite down on the urge to call out to him or tap on the window and stop him from leaving without talking this through further. Why did he even care? Technically this wasn’t his business. Him and Tony weren’t close, hell they weren’t even friends. So why was there a part of him that hated seeing the genius upset and driving off down the road?

Not trying to think too hard about it, the blonde slunk back to his bike and popped his helmet on. 

After the build up all week, maybe having the talk with Tony hadn’t been the right idea afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, for the late chapter! 
> 
> Usually I'm a chapter ahead, but since I was busy last week I had to write all of this in five days and between work, summer projects, and the fact that this if the longest chapter I've written yet, I didn't get this done on time. Hopefully we'll be back on schedule next week! Thanks for reading


	6. Exo-Politics

Was there any room in his already lengthy introductory spiel to add in paranoid bastard?

Tony Stark may be impulsive and brash, but for all he made poor decisions with good intentions to blow up in his face at a later date, he was still too smart to take Steve at face value. Sure, the guy was sweet and polite and had an entire army of elementary school art kids nipping at his heels, but there was something more to him. 

Maybe it was in the way he could tell Steve's been holding back in every conversation they've had since first meeting, or the multitude of trust issues Tony's gathered through the years. There was something more there.

Besides, art teachers aren't built like the cover of bodybuilders bi-monthly, that's for damn sure. It was just against the laws of nature.

So Tony googled him.

Well, googled is a loose term, seeing as he was pacing in front of a holo-screen in the living room after he had put Peter to bed for the night.

As soon as his beloved son was laid to rest (After three chapters from one of his Magic Treehouse books, jesus kid.) he had found himself in front of the couch, and calling out for JARVIS to look into anybody by the name Steve Rogers currently living in New York.

Kudos to Steve for having one of the most common names in America.

After whittling down the list considerably he had happened upon information on one Captain Rogers from the 107th infantry. He was a man of many feats, a highly decorated officer who’s done a good bit for the country. Not that many would know that. 

Usually men like Steve would have way more press. Interviews and charity balls and shaking hands with government officials, hell, BECOMING a government official wasn’t uncommon for men like him. The scant information that Tony managed to uncover about the man had the distinct writing of a reporter trying to work around a restraining order on the press.

So, built like a brick shithouse, handsome as the devil, good with kids, a national hero, and disgustingly humble as a cherry on top of the lab-made man before him.

This man was the definition of America’s Sweetheart. A real Captain of America, or something dumb like that. 

Tony let himself fall backwards onto the couch. He had been expecting to find anything from an instagram to small criminal records, like maybe a speeding ticket from whipping it too hard on his sexy beast of a motorcycle or smoking pot or something. Not viable proof that Steve could pick Tony up and bend him into a pretzel.

And wasn’t that an idea?

In an effort to dispel the image of Mr. Perfect bending him in half, he was going to try his best to NOT play the role of creepy dad who’s hot for babysitter, Tony called out to JARVIS.

“J, call Rhodey up for me, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony fidgeted with his tie as he listened to the sound of his phone dialing through JARVIS’ speakers.

“What’s going on, Tony? Isn’t it like ten at night over there or-”

“Wow, really? Not even a hello from my dear sweet Rhodey Bear? I’m removing the hearts from your contact name in my phone as we speak. Mortally wounded, over here.”

A resigned sigh crackled through the speakers. “What do you want?”

“Is it really so hard to believe that I’m just calling to ask how you’re doing? To ask how your most recent travels have been? Maybe I just missed the sound of your melodic voice and a phone call was the only way to soothe my aching heart. Maybe I-”

“Spit it out, Tones!”

“Ok, do you know any officer by the name of Steve Rogers?”

There was a brief moment of quiet over the call as Rhodey hummed in thought.

“Not for a couple years, I don’t think,” he mumbled, the sound of computer keys clacking in the background. “Here, I found him. I met him maybe once or twice when he needed reinforcement from the air force. Why do you ask?”

“I just hired him to babysit my son,” Tony muttered as he rolled onto his stomach. “There isn’t much about him on the interwebs, so I figured I’d call you up, my dear.”

“He was famous for being a total tank and barreling through almost any obstacle in his way, but just as famous for his last years in service where he did everything in his power to keep out of the press,” Rhodey explained before jumping straight to the point. “And what the hell do you mean babysit? This man could bench press a truck.”

“Apparently Mr. America is spending his retirement as an art teacher at the Rec. Center in the afternoons,” Tony sighed, pushing himself into a sitting position and glaring ahead of him. “I love Peter more than anything in this world but leave it to him to get attached to possibly the hottest teacher in existence.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Tony. Do NOT try and fuck an american hero!”

“Firstly, bold of you to assume I’m not already planning on how to defile a national treasure like that,” the genius hadn’t actually made any concrete plans to seduce Rogers, but the sputtering his best friend did over the phone after he had said that was worth the minor fib. “And, secondly, I’m not going to do that because he seems like just the type of boy-next-door to get awkward after sleeping together, and I’m not doing that to Peter.”

“Is THE Steve Rogers really going to babysit Peter?” Rhodey asked incredulously.

“Don’t get too starstruck, Platypus, or I’m gonna start getting jealous. What, you got a crush on America’s Sweetheart over here, or something?” Tony teased.

“The man’s practically a legend, Tony,” Rhodey explained, the genius could hear shuffling as his best friend presumably started pacing in the cute way he tended to do while going on a rant. It was one of the many traits that rubbed off on him after rooming together while they were in MIT. 

Pacing was definitely a more desirable habit to pick up than Tony’s penchant for getting shitfaced and singing Queen songs on top of tables.

“The dude saved over four hundred men from over enemy lines in what was previously assumed to be a suicide mission, and that’s just his first mission!” Rhodes explained, and Tony could just imagine him gesturing wildly with one hand while he did it. “Him and his team started building a reputation and earned the nickname The Howling Commandos, but it all went downhill when-”

“Howling Commandos? Where have I heard that before?” Tony mumbled, gesturing towards the ceiling as a signal for JARVIS to look that up.

“Can I finish?” his best friend muttered, sounding unamused, but not all that surprised he was interrupted.

“Yes, yeah, of course, my dear James,” the billionaire mumbled, already scrolling through the holo-screen in front of him and not paying any attention to the phone still squished between his shoulder and ear.

“Well, another fun fact about Captain Rogers is that he’s the world’s most heinous child murderer. All his victims were the young sons of famous billionaires,” Rhodey droned, knowing his friend wasn’t comprehending a single word. “The craziest part? All of them were named Peter.”

“What a dreamboat. An american hero at his finest,” Tony hummed as he skipped over a link to an article from wikipedia.

“Sir, if I may interject, I believe James Buchanan Barnes from the Prosthesis Trials was apart of the Howling Commandos as well,” JARVIS spoke up, pulling the aforementioned man’s consent form for the procedure to attach the base plate for the robotic arm Tony had created just for him.

“Barnes? Well I’ll be damned,” the genius mumbled, expanding the consent form and scrolling through the rest of the files they had on him in the Stark Industries database.

“You know Barnes too?” Rhodey said incredulously. “The hell, Stark? You some kind of American hero magnet or something?”

“Do you know Barnes?”

“Know is a strong word. I’ve heard of him, he was Rogers’ right hand man in all things on and off of the field.”

“Isn’t that funny,” Tony hummed, what are the odds he’d just so happened to pick the dynamic duo out of the Howling Commandos. “Think they’d put me in the middle of a super-good-looking-soldier sandwich if I asked real nice?”

“More like knock your teeth in,” Rhodey snorted.

“You’re no fun, Rhodey bear,” the Stark huffed, hopping up from the couch and to the elevator. It was Valentines Day afterall, and he felt as though a good drink was in order. A gift to himself. “I’m so scared up here! It’s lonely in this big tall tower, and you never come visit.” 

“Oh, can it, you big baby. You’ve never fit the damsel distress stereotype and you’re not going to start now,” Tony could practically hear the sound of Rhodey rolling his eyes. “If that’s all you need from me, I’ve got some real important shit to be doing right now.”

“Correction: nothing is more important than I am, darling. Don’t you forget it!”

“My deepest apologies, your highness. I do hope you’ll pardon my mistake.”

“I’ll consider it, but only because you’re so pretty.”

“Goodbye, Tony.”

“Later, sourpuss,” Tony grinned, simultaneously hanging up the call and stepping out onto the common floor of the tower where he usually held social events for the company. He no longer had a fully stocked bar on the floor of the penthouse, not after he got Peter. It was as much of a babyproofing effort as it was a way to dissuade him from drinking excessively.

But, every so often, a shot of whiskey or two after his pride and joy was put to bed didn’t hurt. Again, it was a holiday!

Tony was halfway through his glass of whiskey when he realized Natalie was resting on the couch closest to the bar. He was too good at controlling himself to do something like fling the glass across the room upon seeing her, but it was damn near close and he still jumped enough the slosh his drink over the edge and onto his fingers.

“Jesus christ, Miss. Rushman, we need to get you a bell or something,” the genius muttered, filling his glass again. Hey! He just spilled it, technically it isn’t a second glass if he didn’t even finish the first one.

“I’ve been here the whole time, Mr. Stark,” Natalie said with a dazzling smile and a tilt of her head. “I can leave if you’d like me to, I was just finishing up some paperwork before I went home for the night. Figured I’d do it somewhere comfortable instead of the offices.”

“They are kind of creepy after hours, huh?” Tony mumbled over the rim of of his drink. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something that told him she was lying. 

It’s not that Natalie had given him any reason to distrust her, in fact it was quite the opposite. From the start, she was all smiles and red curls and glorious takedowns that he’ll never let Happy live down. She was smart, strong, and damn good at her job, but there was something about her that the genius couldn’t quite place. 

Maybe it was just because she happened into his life after the incident, but he felt like there was more there. But it wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. Just the slightest memory of the Ten Rings made Tony reach up and rub at his chest.

Just that small movement had Natalie’s attention the same as if Tony had jumped onto the counter and screamed, and wasn’t that interesting?

Before he could ponder that any further, his phone buzzed from where it sat in his pocket. A glance at the screen told him it was Pepper calling him.

“Hello, my dear Ms. Potts. However may I be of service?” Tony set his drink aside, leaning against the bar. Natalie turned to collect her papers off the coffee table in front of the couch in an attempt to give her boss some semblance of privacy.

“It would be of great service to me if you could tell me when and where the meeting with the PR team is tomorrow,” She jumps right into it, not playing around in the slightest tonight. It must be another late night in the office for her.

“Goodness, me, Ms. Potts! Did you already forget about our meeting? That’s poor form, really. You should be ashamed of yourself,” Tony laid it on thick, sighing like it pained him to do so. “We’ll be docking your pay for this. I’m very disappointed.”

“Cut the shit, Tony. I want to hear out of your own mouth that you know and acknowledge we have something scheduled tomorrow and that you will be there,” Pepper groaned. “This is important!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very life and death right now. I understand,”Tony waves his hands through the air before picking his glass back up for another sip while he begins to pace. “It starts at twelve, be there fifteen minutes early, and it’s a lunch meeting at some stuffy bistro downtown. Happy?”

“Yes, very,” Pepper sounded smug from her end of the call. “And I assume Natalie will be watching over Peter while you’re gone?”

“No, I’m going to drop him off at a friend’s house. They’re making a lego death star, the little nerds couldn’t be more thrilled about it,” Despite the teasing tone of voice, Tony couldn’t help but grin. His son and Ned were adorable with how anxious they were to finish it.

“Aw, look at you making friends. I knew you could do it, Tony.”

“Ah-ah-ah, Peter’s friend. I’m still very dedicated to my life of solitude and I have a strict ‘no fraternizing with the parents’ rule.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Have you told Natalie about your business trip next Friday?”

“Actually, I’m going to have Natalie along with us on this trip,” Tony glanced to where Rushman was packing her folders into her shoulder bag, the image of nonchalance. He could tell she was listening to every word he said. 

“Uh, ok?” Pepper instantly sounded stressed again. “And just WHO will be watching Peter while you’re gone for three days? You better not be planning on taking him to LA with us.”

“Don’t worry a hair on your perfect little head, Pep. I’ve got myself a brand new sitter and Peter thinks the sun shines out of his ass and everything,” Tony informed, pride creeping into his voice.

“A new sitter? And you trust this mystery man with the life of your son for three days?” she questioned incredulously. “Who are you and what have you done with Tony?”

“He’s Peter’s art teacher, and he practically begged me to let Steve watch him.”

“But what about background checks and have you even met him really there’s a lot of real freaks out there and-”

“Pepper, it’s fine. I’ve got all of this under control. Go home and get some rest before you pop a blood vessel,” the billionaire tossed back the rest of his drink and dropped the glass into the sink.

Pepper sighed, a surefire sign she was just going to let Tony make bad decisions on his own. “If you say so. Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Potts,” Just as he was returning his phone to his pocket, Natalie approached, bag slung over her shoulder as she got ready to head home as well.

“New babysitter?” she queried, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a real boy-next-door type too. He’s perfectly qualified, he works with kids for a living,” Tony explained, waving his hands dismissively.

“My apologies, I must have scared Peter off if you had to go find someone else.”

“No, nothing like that. He’s just currently obsessed with the amazing Mr. Rogers right now,” Tony rolled his eyes so he’s not sure but for the briefest moments she almost looked surprised by something he said. The look was gone so quickly he started to wonder if he had just imagined it.

“Mr. Rogers, huh?” Natalie smiled and shook her head. “It’s getting late I should be off. Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Goodnight, Miss. Rushman, see you tomorrow,” Tony watched her slip into the elevator and out of sight. That was...interesting.

But for now he had to push any secretary suspicion to the side, he had to figure out a way to talk Rogers into watching his kid for three days only a week after their first real conversation. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I'm sorry this took so long, but I got caught up in school and all that jazz. Now that I've got my college application stuff rolling I'm less stressed and I've started writing again, yay! I'm not sure if I'll have a chapter out every week like I did during the summer, but I'll try and post to this story every other week. If you're just dying for something to read, though, I'm also writing a sequel to my spiderman spring break fic and will update that inbetween chapters of this fic. Maybe, depends on how much homework I have lmao.
> 
> Anyways! thanks for sticking with me despite disappearing for 2 months and thank you for reading!


	7. Unnatural Selection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if there's any mistakes!

This might have been the first time in Steve’s, admittedly short, career as an art teacher that he’s dreaded work.

Not because of any of the students, no. His kids were amazing like always. Maybe a little more rambunctious as February was coming to an end and spring was quickly approaching, but otherwise they were fine.

It wasn’t so much as dreading work as he was dreading what came afterwards. At six, Tony would be here to pick up Peter. Instead of the billionaire’s usual weirdly flirtatious greeting, query about his son’s behavior, and quick exit, he would be waiting for Steve to clean and lock up his classroom. From there he’d be letting him follow him back to the Stark tower so he could park his motorcycle in Tony’s personal garage.

For the entire weekend.

Steve had made more than enough well meaning mistakes in his life, but this might just take the cake.

It’s not that he thinks Peter is going to be difficult to manage over the weekend. Peter’s always been a great kid and Steve is sure the same is true at home, but that’s just the thing. At his home. The teacher would be coming into Tony’s home, the penthouse at the top of Stark Tower.

Maybe it had been shortsighted of him to agree to be Peter's babysitter last week. He had thought that he would watch the boy for an afternoon or two if at all, and that would be that. 

But, lo and behold, the monday after their Valentine’s day dinner, Tony rang him up and asked if Steve would be available to watch his son over the weekend.

The art teacher had told him he'd check his schedule, then let him know later in the day. Immediately after, he had called Bucky and scheduled an emergency meeting at his and Sam's apartment.

Bucky and Sam had met in a veteran's support group that Sam ran and had the hate equivalent of love at first sight. Enemies on sight.

Steve had the pleasure of hanging out with them one night and nearly called the cops when he saw how hostile they were towards each other. Bucky, who had been living with Steve at the time, was honestly shocked when the blonde asked him if he needed help cutting off ties with Sam.

Bucky informed him that Sam was one of his closest friends and he'd die for him without hesitation. 

Steve didn't understand their friendship, but he was too damn proud of his best friend going out and meeting people again to do anything but laugh and shake his head.

Bucky had moved out of Steve's apartment a year or two ago when he finally managed to get a job as a mechanic that was closer to Sam's than it was where they lived then.

Surprisingly the entire building hadn't burst at its seams from their chaotic energy, but they'd had some close calls from what the artist had heard. 

Regardless of potential apartment complex meltdown situations, Sam and Bucky’s place became their official meeting hub for all things emergency. Steve had rushed over after work Monday afternoon and had spent the last five minutes wearing a hole into the carpet with his frantic pacing while his two friends watched in amusement, waiting for him to explain the situation.

“Any particular reason you chose our place to wander aimlessly in, or did you just need an excuse to hang?” Sam drawled, leaning across the armrest of the couch.

“Aww, did you miss us, Stevie?” Bucky teased, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “If you wanted to see me that bad you didn’t need to make up an emergency for it.”

“C’mon, get your damn feet off the table,” Sam huffed reaching over to slap at the part of Bucky’s leg closest to him. “What were you raised in? A god damn barn or something?”

“I’ll put you in a damn barn-”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Shut up, dick-!”

“Would you two quit it?” Steve huffed, grabbing Bucky by his good arm away from where he’d been attempting to throttle Sam. “I swear, you two are worse than my elementary school kids!”

“Yeah, but we got you out of your head, didn’t we?” Bucky grinned slyly, trying to punch out at his best friend despite the fact that the blonde still had a firm grasp on his arm.

“You-I..what? Shut up,” Steve sputtered, releasing the brunette’s arm.

“Now tell us what’s been bothering you, man,” Sam was using what everybody deemed as his therapy voice. It was a soft tone of voice that he used when he wanted somebody to open up to him, and as much as his friends teased him for it, the voice never failed to goad them into bearing their souls. Bucky despised it.

Steve sighed, figuring he might as well just say it before they beat it out of him. “I may have gotten myself in over my head this time.”

“Shocker. What’d you do this time, Cap?” Bucky mumbled slumping into the couch cushions, stretching his legs out across Sam’s lap. “Doesn’t got anything to do with your Tony Stark biz, does it?”

Damn him, Bucky could read Steve like a book. One of the downsides to growing up with the guy.

“Please tell me you didn’t bone the guy who makes Bucky’s prosthetics,” Sam sighed, smacking at the pair of legs in front of him before just leaving them there to use as lumpy arm rests.

“What??? No! How could you say that?” Steve gasped, practically clutching at his pearls in horror as his face started burning. “Babysitting! I’m babysitting his son for the entire weekend, not ‘boning him.’ I can’t believe you!”

“Would you calm it with the air quotes stuff. It’s super obvious you have a hard-on for Stark,” Bucky rolled his eyes like Steve was somehow being the unreasonable one.

“Bucky’s got a point,” Sam shrugged at the betrayed looking blonde. “He’s all you’ve been talking about for weeks.”

“Because the man’s insufferable! While he’s not the worst parent I’ve ever met, he’s obviously not giving him enough attention at home,” Steve began his rant, too caught up in his aggravation with Tony to notice Sam and Bucky sharing a look. “Peter is such a smart little guy, and it kills me to know how little anybody realizes it, and-”

“And you’re babysitting him this weekend?” Sam muttered, trying to move the conversation off of a certain billionaire’s parenting techniques. It was a rabbit hole they didn’t want to fall down for the fourth time this week. “Since when are you a babysitter for the Stark heir?”

Steve fell silent again, obviously debating with what to say as the two men sitting on the couch across from him raised their eyebrows.

“Peter invited me to dinner with him and his father Friday night.”

“You had Valentine’s Day dinner with Stark??”

“You dirty fucking rat, you’re totally boning that douche!”

“Would you two shut the hell up! I’m not doing anything untoward with Stark!” Steve looked five seconds from tearing his hair out. “The guy felt guilty for leaving his son home alone so often that he promised to do whatever the kid wanted on Valentines. It just happened to be hanging out with me after aftercare one day.”

“And he asked you to be his babysitter?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, Peter did,”

“And you said yes??” Bucky looked more amused than he should have. “You dumb fucking boy scout. You know you’re allowed to say no to people, right?”

“You weren’t there! He was giving me these big sad eyes, and if I said no, I would have felt like a total monster-”

“Yeah, Steve. It’s called puppy dog eyes, and every kid has them,” Sam rolled his eyes. “So, Stark asked you to babysit this weekend? What did you think was going to happen? You can’t just offer to babysit then not expect him to not take you up on it.”

“When you go to his place can you steal something and bring it home for me?” Bucky grinned before doing his own version of puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, shit, Steve. He’s doing the sad eyes!” Sam gasped sarcastically. “Now you have to do what he says!”

“Ok, I get it!” Steve groaned, throwing his arms up and turning to glare out the window. No, he wasn’t pouting. “I got myself into this mess, I get it. It’s just…I don’t know. I see how unhappy Peter is when his dad has to leave and I thought maybe if he had a babysitter he liked it wouldn’t bother him as much.”

The other two men quieted down. It wasn’t often they got a genuine response about how Steve was feeling so they didn’t want to push him away.

“And that’s very noble of you, Steve,” Sam started, getting up from the couch to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But you don’t have to take responsibility for all of the people around you. You’re allowed to say no to something if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Steve nodded, not knowing what to say to that as he stared at the parked cars beside the apartment building bathing in the orange glow from the street lamps. It was dark out.

“It’s getting late. I should get home,” The blonde muttered, going to where he had thrown his jacket across the counter when he first came in. “I’m helping a neighbor move tomorrow and then I’ve got work in the afternoon.”

“Of course,” Sam nodded, hoping he’d got through to Steve, but knowing that probably wasn’t the case. “Just promise me you’ll think about what I said?”

“Sure thing.”

The friday afternoon after that monday evening, as Steve got on his motorcycle and prepared to follow Tony’s sports car to the tower, he received a text message from Bucky.

‘ur such a stubborn dumbass’

-

“Jarvis is our butler and he lives in the ceiling. If you listen really closely, you can hear him scuttling around up there during the night,” Tony gestured above him as he bustled around the living area in the penthouse. Steve watched as the harried genius put his bags in a pile and tried to cram miscellaneous paperwork into a briefcase.

“Daddy! You’re so silly, Jarvis isn’t a person. He’s an AI!” Peter giggled from where he was bouncing on the couch, juice box spilling over his fingers and making a mess.

“You’re right, Petey. I must have forgotten,” Tony stopped to shake his head at his son, standing with his hands on his hips. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d probably be really bored, maybe you’d go crazy?” the first grader shrugged. 

“Right. On that heartwarming note, come give me a hug, booger boy,” the genius rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any hiding the fond smile that the boy had put on his face.

Peter handed his juice box to Steve and ran towards his father, jumping into his arms. Tony caught him, spinning him in a circle before setting him on his hip.

“Oof, geez, kiddo. You’re getting too heavy for me to carry you,” the man teased, poking at his son’s side to make him giggle.

“Nooo! You’re just getting old, daddy!” Peter laughed, trying to shove Tony’s hands away.

“Old! I’m sorry, did you just call me old?!” Stark yelled, setting him down and pretending to shake the boy by his shoulders. “I’m in the prime of my life! Why on earth are you calling me old?”

“Mr. Steve can pick me up super easy!” Peter giggled. Tony shot a glare over to where the blonde had been on standby with the carton of apple juice. 

Steve raised his hands in surrender immediately. “Hey! Don’t drag me into this, I’m just the babysitter.”

“Watch, daddy!” That was all the warning Steve got that Peter was going to take a running start and launch himself into his teacher’s arms. The artist just barely had enough time to set the drink he was holding down and catch the boy. “See! Steve didn’t even make grumbly sounds like you did.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, daddy’s all washed up and boring compared to our new resident hunk,” Tony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Hunk?”

“Are you ready to go yet, Tony?” A new voice called from the elevator. In rushed Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. She was scrolling at something on her tablet distractedly as she strut over to Tony. Behind her trailed two others, the man who regularly picked Peter up from daycare and - oh, no way...it couldn’t be.

“Lordy, Pepper,” Tony sighed, propping his suitcase up on it’s wheels and slinging a bag over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m ready for our funtastic weekend out with the girls. Happy?”

“Overjoyed,” the woman muttered with a smile, tapping at a few more things before shutting off her tablet and sending a smile Steve’s way. “You must be the new babysitter. I’m Pepper Potts, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Steve Rogers, and the pleasure’s all mine, ma’am,” Steve grinned, shaking her hand.

“Well, aren’t you just a precious little boy scout?” Tony teased, rolling his eyes. “I don’t do pleasantries so I’ll leave you four to make nice while I go grab my last few things.”

“Happy, right? You pick up Peter in the afternoons,” Steve asked politely, trying his best not to gawk at the red head who stood directly next to the man he was speaking with.

“Please, call me Mr. Hogan,” the man grumbled, reluctantly shaking the blonde’s hand. Steve didn’t take it personally, he doesn’t think he’s ever once seen the man smile.

“And Nata-”

“Natalie Rushman, Mr. Stark’s assistant, it’s so nice to meet you,” Natasha interrupted Steve, sticking her hand out for him to shake. Her eyes bore into him, daring him to say a word. “So, you’re the person who took my babysitting gig.” she joked, all saccharine smiles framed with candy apple red lips, it was leaving the man with a toothache. This wasn’t Natasha, at least not the one that he knew.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. Hopefully I can live up to your legacy,” Steve chuckled, not missing a beat. He may not understand just what his friend was doing playing an assistant with a clipboard and a pencil skirt, but he knew better than to say anything.

“Righty-o, let’s hit the road. A-Team ready to roll out?” Tony called out as he came back from his bedroom, strapping on a rather high tech watch to his wrist. 

“We’re going by plane,” Pepper huffed.

“I thought I was on the A-Team!” Peter yelled, pouting in his father’s direction.

“Don’t worry, puddin’ pop. You’re on the Super Special A-Team,” Tony reassured the boy, crouching down to be eye level with him.

“That sounds made up.”

“Well it’s not, and it’s so exclusive that none of these schmucks are allowed on the team except for us,” the genius grinned, before holding his arms out wide. “Now give me a hug before I head out.”

Peter all but crashed into his dad, gripping onto his suit jacket tightly. 

“Please don’t go, daddy.”

It just about wrenched Steve’s heart out to see how sad Peter looked clinging to his only remaining parent with all the strength his tiny body could manage. He could only imagine how Tony was feeling right now.

“I’m so sorry, pal. I wish I could stay home and watch ninja turtles with you on the couch all weekend,” Tony mumbled as he pulled away. Peter reached up to grip the cuffs of his father’s suit sleeves so his hands stayed on his thin shoulders. “I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”

“Promise?” the boy sniffled, voice sounding small.

“Promise. I love you, spider monkey,”Tony pressed a quick kiss to his son’s forehead and stood back up, trying to give Peter a brave smile. Steve wondered if this is how it went every time the man went on a business trip.

“Love you too. Bye aunt Pepper,” Peter said softly as he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Bye, Peter,” Pepper smiled, blowing the six year old a quick kiss before grabbing one of Tony’s bags despite his protests. “Shut it, we’re going to go load up the plane. You go brief the babysitter, then meet us there, you have five minutes.” she muttered, giving the genius a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, I’ll be there in a hot minute,” Tony gave a big show of sighing and acting put upon, but as soon as Pepper turned to get the elevator along with Happy and Natasha, he sent a fond smile her way. 

Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Pepper and Tony were together again. Not that it was any of his business, but the thought chewed at the back of his mind, much to his chagrin.

“You with us, Rogers?” Tony was snapping his fingers in front of Steve’s face, making the blonde take a surprised step back.

“Yes, sorry. What were you saying?” Steve cleared his throat, turning his full attention to the shorter man.

“I was just saying that if you have any questions, just ask Jarvis. Bedtime is eight, and Peter will most certainly try to weasel out of it, so have fun with that. Kid’s damn persuasive when he wants to be,” Tony explained, eyes trained on where his son had curled up on the couch with his juice.

“Everything will be just fine, Mr. Stark. You don’t have to stress about anything,” Steve tried to reassure the man who just scoffed in return.

“When have I ever been stressed about anything?” The genius was glaring at Steve now, arms folded across his chest as he tapped his foot. He was practically vibrating with how much he was fidgeting. “Certainly not when I had an entire multi-billion dollar company forklifted onto my shoulders at eighteen. Not when my previous business partner tried to murder me in cold blood. And definitely not when I’m ditching my son to take a two day trip to California for a series of boring ass meetings. Who says I’m stressed? I honestly find the claim rather preposterous and I-”

“Peter’s going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll even send you hourly updates if that’ll make you feel better,” As much as Steve wanted to be pissed that Tony was giving him the third degree, he knew it was just because the man was nervous. The blonde couldn’t blame him. 

“That’s ridiculous. I can just look at Jarvis’ feeds on my Starkphone. I don’t need you to send me updates,” Tony insisted despite some of the tension leaking out of the line of his shoulders as soon as Steve had brought up the idea.

“Let me humour you?” Steve gave the stressed man a crooked grin, hands shoved into his pockets. “Feel free to completely ignore them if you want, just figured I’d offer.”

“Well’ if you’re so insistent on sending me them...it’s not like I can stop you, right?” Tony sighed, making a big deal of putting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes. All the blonde could focus on was the relieved smile on Tony’s face. “Besides, it gives me an excuse to be on my phone instead of staring mind-numbing charts and diagrams.”

“Fine. Just don’t let Miss Potts know you told me that,” Steve chuckled. “I have a feeling she wouldn’t hesitate to chew me out for something like that.”

“Maybe, but all you’d have to do is flash those sad, blue eyes and flutter those pretty lashes and she’d let you go free.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Steve’s laughed nervously, flushing as he shook his head. Since when did a little flirting make him such a wreck?

“She’s completely desensitized to my wily good looks, but a hunk like you? I bet people are just tripping over themselves to cheer you up,” Tony smirked, and just when did they get so close to each other?

“If she isn’t afraid to call you out then I’d suggest you’d go meet her before you’re late,” Steve joked, a hand on the genius’ shoulder as he not-so-subtly directed him towards the elevator doors.

“Trying to kick me out of my own place, I see. Jarvis? Fire up the lasers,” Tony grinned as he stepped through the elevator doors.

“Go. Everything will be ok, and you’ll be the first to know if it isn’t,” Steve stood outside, making sure the other man didn’t try and make an escape.

“Ok! I got it! I’m leaving!” The brunette raised his hands in surrender.

“And you were just...joking...about those lasers, right?” The babysitter asked nervously.

“Take good care of my son and you don’t have to worry about it,” Tony smirked wickedly as the doors shut in between them.

Steve glanced up at the ceiling nervously, before heading back into the living room where Peter was watching cartoons.

“So...tell me about Jarvis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently came to the horrifying realization that this fic is slowly morphing into a slow burn fic, something I vowed to never do because of how insane they drive me. You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain. Thank god I look good in black.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Blockades

“Welcome back, sir. Would you like me to inform Captain Rogers of your arrival?” JARVIS greeted his creator as soon as he stepped into the elevator to Stark Tower.

“No I think we’ll give our golden boy a heart attack. What do you think?” Tony hummed, loosening his tie and popping the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt. 

The trip to visit the west coast headquarters for Stark Industries had gone better than the genius had expected it to. It was most likely due to the updated staff Pepper had hired after ridding the department of the last of Stane’s underlings. Even after the man was put into jail for his attempt at killing Tony, they continued to lurk in dark corners of the company and create issues. Like rats. Maybe not even rats, like ants. They were bothersome, but couldn’t create enough mayhem to result in anything more than a couple of easily fixed messes.

Nonetheless, it was a relief to have those nuisances gone from SI. These series of meetings mostly had to do with their yearly review of how things were going in this section of the company, which was especially important with the new employees. Hence why Pepper forced Tony to come with her. It was better than the boring meetings with the dinosaurs on the board of directors, only for the sole reason that he got to wander the company and actually watch what was going on. He even got to meet the California interns that were all very promising and Tony was sure he’d be writing all of them recommendation letters or hiring them in the next year or so.

“I think that sounds exactly like something you’d do, sir,” JARVIS intoned before bringing the elevator up to the penthouse.

It had been a business trip better than most, but Tony was exhausted. He couldn’t wait to settle down with his son on the couch and veg for the next two hours after dinner. At least that was the plan until he saw the mess strewn across his living room.

“Spiderman! Come help me, please!” Steve yelled from where he was sitting in a chair dragged in from the dining room, a jump rope loosely wrapped around his arms. “The evil Mr. Bubbles has me trapped, you’re my only hope!”

Tony assumed that was the teddy bear Peter’s had since his first christmas slumped on the coffee table next to the art teacher. There was a black strips of paper scotch taped above his eyes to give the bear angry eyebrows.

“Don’t be scared!” Peter called out from inside of the fort Steve and him created using the back of the sofa, more chairs, and bed sheets. The thing took up nearly half the living room, obviously built big enough for Rogers to fit in it. “Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman is here to save you!” the six year old burst out of the fort, scrambling over the couch. He was wearing one of Tony’s baggy old t-shirts that was an eye-bleeding red at one point but had died down to pink over the years, and there was a fuzzy blue blanket tied around his neck to act as a cape.

“Oh, thank goodness. I don’t know what I’d do without you here to protect me, Spiderman,” Steve grinned down at where Peter had rushed over to untie the rope. Something about the blonde playing along with his son made Tony’s heart trip over itself in a way that he didn’t want to closely analyze.

“You’re welcome, Captain!” Peter saluted to his teacher. “You can be my sidekick and help me defeat Mr. Bubbles, ok? Here, take this shield so you can protect yourself.” the boy handed him a tiny, plastic shield from his knight halloween costume he wore a few years prior.

“Thanks, but what about you? Don’t you need a shield?”

“No, I’m super strong and also I can heal, like, super fast. Besides, once I get him with my super-webs, he’ll be all tied up.”

“Oh, of course. That makes total sense,” Steve was holding back laughter as he played along.

“Now let’s attack!” Peter yelled, jumping around to face the teddy bear and holding out a can of silly string menacingly. It was at this exact moment when he finally noticed his father standing by the elevator, watching the scene play out before him. The spray can hit the floor, “Daddy!!!”

“Hey there, Spiderman!” Tony chuckled as he took a knee so he could catch his son, who immediately sprinted over, in a tight hug. “Looks like you two were having fun while I was out?” The genius smirked, looking up at Steve from over Peter’s shoulder.

The blonde’s face was bright red as he tugged the american flag towel he had been using as a cape from around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I figured you would have texted me when you left so we would have time to tidy up before you got back,” Steve was laughing nervously, nearly tripping over the chair directly behind him. 

Tony had thought about warning the babysitter before he got home, but after witnessing what he did, he was glad he didn’t. There was something about seeing the man interacting with the light of his life and making Peter smile like it was nothing that made him feel like a ridiculous teenage girl. Natalie hadn’t been a bad babysitter in the slightest, but she certainly hadn’t been on the same level of dedication as Steve helping his son create a mini city in the living room for Peter to play superhero in.

“Oh, right. The mess, it’s terrible, we’re going to have to fire you immediately. Hand over the cape, ‘Captain,’” Tony smirked and rolled his eyes as he stood up to stare the other in the eyes. Well, as close as he could get to looking into the taller man’s eyes. “I’ve been raising Peter for how long now? I can handle a messy living room.”

“Right, right. Of course, I just-”

“Daddy! Mr. Steve drew us as superheroes! He’s the best drawer ever, you’ve gotta come see,” Peter interrupted, tugging insistently on his father’s arm to try and drag him to his bedroom.

Tony, not one to deny his son what he wanted, (especially after business trips) followed the energetic boy towards his bedroom. His eyes couldn’t help but take one final glance at Steve before he was pulled away.

Peter’s room was different from when Tony had left, that was for sure. There were crayons and markers strewn across his desk top and dozens of new pictures were taped to the wall next to the couple of posters he already had up. The one the boy was most excited about was a picture of two red and blue heros. One of the heroes had a spider in the center of his chest and wide white eyes standing next to his sidekick, who had a star and stripes on his costume. The drawing had been put up above his bed next to his favorite poster with the different species of tarantulas on it.

“Mr. Steve drew us as superheroes!” Peter babbled excitedly. “I’m Spiderman because spiders are cool and I got my powers because of that radioactive spider that bit me when I was way littler.”

It had been a jumping spider down in the lab and it had bit him four months ago, Peter had cried until Tony had created an entire story about how it was secretly a special spider and that it would give him super strength and webs.

“An’ then Mr. Steve is Captain America. It’s ‘cause when I asked him why Jarvis called him Captain Rogers, he said that he used to fight for the american army,” Peter explained, pointing to the tall muscular hero standing behind the smaller Spiderman.

Before Tony could respond, Steve sheepishly stepped into the room with a couple of folded blankets from the fort in the living room.

“I’m sorry about the new decor, too,” Steve huffed a breathy laugh that felt like it was meant to fill an awkward pause more than anything else. “Whenever we have free time during art, Peter’s always talking about Spiderman, and since he had me for the weekend…” he trailed off, glancing around the room to the other drawings placed in different places through the room.

“I think this room needed an update anyways. You used scotch tape, right?” Tony bent over to give Peter a playful glare, poking at his ribs and making him giggle. “If I find out you’ve been putting duct tape on the walls again, you’re in for it, pal.”

Peter fell back onto his bed in a fit of laughter, trying to squirm and kick away from his father who continued to tickle him mercilessly.

“Stoppit! No!” He squealed, managing to slip past Tony and slide over the edge of the bed opposite to him. “Oh, wait! Mr. Steve made one more thing, lemme go get it! Stay right there.” and then Peter was off like a rocket, thumping down the hallway towards whatever the amazing Mr. Rogers had created this time.

When Tony had agreed to let Steve babysit Peter, he had expected his son to be a little less upset about business trips. What he hadn’t expected was for the art teacher to become his son’s new hero. It’d be a lie if Tony said it hadn’t smarted to come home and find he wasn’t missed at all. Not that he wanted his boy to be distraught like he had been, but a part of him wished he could have been home to do all of this instead of the sitter doing it for him.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Nanny McPhee. I don’t think Peter thought about the fact that dear ol’ dad ditched him at all this weekend,” Tony hummed, turning to Steve with his hands in his pockets.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Steve shrugged, giving the genius a knowing smile as he walked to Peter’s desk and gingerly removed a drawing tacked to the corkboard hanging above it. “Peter insisted I draw one of his other favorite heroes, too.”

Tony reluctantly took the paper from Steve, sending him a suspicious glare over the rim of his rose-tinted shades. Who gave him the right to be tall and handsome and ridiculously good at art and capable of reading Tony’s mind like nobody but his closest friends and family could? He had practically grew up in the spotlight and cultivated many a mask to disguise the things that wouldn’t blow over in public, things that were weaknesses. 

Not that it seemed to matter, what with Steve being able to read him like an open book.

He glanced down at the paper he had been handed. It was another superhero, this one was red and gold and looked like a robot. ‘Ironman’ was scrawled across the top of the page in what Tony assumed was the blonde’s handwriting. The drawing was annoyingly well done, just like everything else Steve did, but what really caught his eye was the glowing blue circle in the middle of Ironman’s chest that made it suddenly much too hard to breathe in here.

“And who’s this?”

“That’s Ironman, another hero Peter made up. He’s a super cool billionaire who made the suit from scratch and goes around New York, helping Spiderman save the day,” Steve explained with a shy smile. “I suppose you can guess who he’s based off of.”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” Tony murmured, only distantly hearing the babysitter speak to him, as the room around him faded in and out of focus. “And how did he...how did he come up with this?” 

“He just insisted that Ironman have a metal suit in the same colors as ‘daddy’s favorite car’ from the basement. Peter showed me a picture of it then told me to put a big blue laser cannon in the chest. Honestly, I have no clue where he gets these ideas from,” Steve chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. Noticing how uncharacteristically quiet Tony’s been, the artist leaned in a bit, trying to catch his eye. “Hey, is everything alright?”

Peter slid into the room on unsteady socked feet, a tupperware container of cookies clutched in his tiny hands. Thank God for small mercies and well timed child interruptions.

“Mr. Steve made cookies!”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean, you little heathen. I make cookies too!”

“Nooo, daddy! Real cookies!” Peter ignored his father’s affronted gasp as he crammed his tiny fingers between the lid and the container to try and pry the top off. “He made them from scratch, like with flour and eggs, not a bag of cookie dough.”

“I swear I get no respect around here!” Tony huffed, casually placing the drawing face down on the desk and pointedly ignoring the concerned look Steve cast in his direction. “Well, let’s try ‘em then. They better be damn near perfect or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Peter passed out cookies to both the adults, then grabbed one himself. (After contemplating which in the box had the most chocolate chips in it, of course.) The three ate in silence, the youngest amongst them completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Is there anything you can’t do, superman?” Tony pushed through the awkwardness, gesturing to Steve with his half-eaten cookie. “Good with kids, hot as the dickens, an honest to God COOK??? I’ll find your secret weakness one day.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like that, I’ve heard you make some mean spaghetti and meatballs,” The blonde shrugged.

“Can we have that for dinner tonight?” Peter asked, spraying crumbs everywhere when he spoke through his mouthful of sweets. Tony made a mental note to change the kid’s bedsheets later, there was definitely a quarter of a cookie spilling down Peter’s shirt and onto the bed he was sitting on.

“Whatever you want, kiddo,” Tony replied, trying to remember if he had remembered to order meatballs from the grocery store last week.

“Can Mr. Steve eat dinner with us???” Peter set the cookies aside and scrambled to stand up on top of his bed, puppy dog eyes in full force.

Both the Starks turned to stare at Steve, waiting for his response. Tony tried to keep the exhaustion off of his face at the idea of having to play host for the art teacher tonight, but he still felt bad about leaving his son, so he’d ultimately do what Peter wanted.

“Maybe some other night, bud. We already got to spend two whole days with each other!” Steve smiled comfortingly over at the six year old. “Besides, I’m sure your dad wants to spend some time with you too.”

“Okaaaaayyy,” Peter groaned, but he still had a smile on his face, so he obviously wasn’t too broken up about it. Tony shot Steve a grateful smile as the boy bounced off of his bed and ran over to give the blonde a hug. “I had lotsa fun playing with you this weekend, we should do it again next weekend!”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you, Peter. I had fun too,” Steve bent down to hug him back, so Peter didn’t just have his arms around his legs. “I’ll see you Monday, ok?”

“Yeah! I’ll see you Monday!” the kid nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s all just so touching...brings a tear to my eye,” Tony sniffled, reaching up to wipe a fake tear out of his eye. “And you know what would make this sentimental little moment even better?”

“What, daddy???”

“If you would go put the cookies away before they bring ants into your room,” Tony grinned, handing the plastic box back over to his son who shot a grumpy look back, but still went to do as he was told.

“You guys still get ants, even all the way up here?” Steve asked incredulously.

“None at all, and if we did I’d have already solved a way to fix that little issue.”

“Ah, yes. You’re an oh-so incredible genius. How could I forget?” Steve teased. He glanced nervously out of Peter’s room towards the living room. There were still chairs and stuffed animals strewn across the place. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go out there and help clean up? It’s really no problem…”

“It’s fine, Rogers. I might be old, but I can still manage to clean my own living room,” Tony huffed.

“You’re not old, I didn’t mean-” Steve’s face went red. “I mean, only if you’re sure. Peter was great, I didn’t have any trouble. Except for when he tried to push for a later bedtime, but I had expected that.”

“He’s a good kid,” Tony nodded, unable to help when his eyes shot over to the paper that still lay upside down on Peter’s desk.

“I shouldn’t overstay my welcome,” Steve, not one to miss a hint, plastered on a polite smile that Tony assumed he used on the most difficult of parents. After all, the genius would know, since that’s the very same smile that greeted him the first couple of times he met the artist. “Thanks for allowing me into your home.”

“Thanks for watching my rugrat,” Tony shrugged. “You got paypal? I’ll give you the cash through paypal.” he muttered, as he started to walk out of Peter’s room and back towards the living room.

“Pay...who?” Steve asked, giving such a confused puppy look that Tony was half tempted to pet the top of his head and ask him who the good boy was. Ridiculous, he needed the blonde out of here immediately. This absolute golden retriever of a man was bad for his sanity and his rickety old heart. 

“Google it,” Tony told him, grabbing Steve’s duffel bag from where it had been sitting beside the couch and turning to shove it into his arms. “Shoot me a message when you finish making your paypal and then we’re all set. Have a good rest of your weekend.” the brunette, turned with a half-hearted wave as he walked to the kitchen. He hoped to god it looked like he knew what he was doing.

“I...uhm, ok?”Steve looked even more confused now, the tiny crease between his brows looking close to becoming a permanent fixture on his handsome face. What the hell was Tony doing thinking about his handsome face like that for?? He needed to focus. “See you later, I guess…”

With that, Steve entered the elevator and was presumably heading down to the private parking garage beneath the building. Tony would have probably fell to the ground if there hadn’t been a single remaining stool at the kitchen island for him to collapse into. He grasped at the shirt covering his chest like it was suddenly choking him, his breath speeding up as he hunched over the granite countertop.

It would have devolved into a full panic attack if Peter hadn’t made noise from where he was his on his tiptoes trying to toss the box of cookies into the pantry to his left. There was a small crash as his son literally launched the box to the highest shelf and knocked what sounded like three cans off of the shelf in the impact. He poked his head out from the pantry to look around suspiciously, trying to guarantee nobody had heard his fumble, and that’s when he noticed his father sitting not ten feet away at the counter. Tony must have looked worse than he thought because Peter ran to his side immediately with a worried frown that looked out of place on his chubby little face.

“Daddy? Are you ok?” He asked softly, patting his father’s knees. “Do you want me to call Unca Rhodey to help you breath?”

“No, it’s okay bud,” Tony sighed, the guilt of that one question weighing on his already aching chest. This wasn’t the first time the man had panicked in front of his son, and everytime it happened, Tony felt like a useless excuse of a father. Rhodey had luckily been visiting when a particularly bad episode happened, and had been there to talk him through it. When he finally had caught his breath enough to see straight, Peter had been standing right behind, Rhodes. He’d been crying and asking what was wrong with his dad. It wasn’t easy to explain PTSD in a child-friendly manner, but Peter, always so smart and so thoughtful, understood that his father needed a little extra help sometimes.

There was a part of him that wished Peter’s mother was still alive, they’d never been close, but Peter deserved someone who wasn’t weak like him. Being a single parent was one of the most difficult things he’s ever done, and he revolutionized clean energy via arc reactor a few years prior.

The boy started to climb his father’s legs, scrambling to get to his lap. He put up a fuss when Tony tried to help him, so all the man could do was sit there and smile as Peter tried to use his dress shirt sleeve and the edge of the counter to try and leverage himself up to where he wanted to be. When he finally succeeded, he grabbed Tony’s face between two tiny hands and tugged him down to press their foreheads together.

“You’re ok, dude. You’ll be fine when you get married,” The little boy told him, with a determined look on his face.

“It’s ‘by the time you get married,’ bubba,” Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. Peter was saying the exact same thing he did whenever the kid fell over and got hurt. “But I appreciate it.”

“Shhhhh, do you need a band-aid?” Peter asked, pulling back a little bit to look him in the eyes. All of this was so very serious and it was hard for him not to laugh.

“No, I think I’m ok. Thank you, though, Doctor Parker-Stark,” Tony wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him close. “You didn’t tell Mr. Rogers about daddy’s light, right?”

“The reactor?” Peter asked quietly.

“You’re not in trouble, Pete. I’m just curious,” Tony nodded, rubbing a hand up and down his back, trying not to betray how anxious the idea of Steve knowing made him.

“No. I promise. Is this cause of the superhero pictures?” Peter mumbled, understanding instantly. The kid was too smart for his own good. His hand came up to tap against Tony’s chest. To tap against the metal casing embedded in his chest beneath the shirt. “I told him it was lasers ‘cause you have a big heart and also ‘cause lasers are cool.”

“Well that was considerate of you, lasers ARE pretty cool. Anyways, it’s better than the american flag dinner plate you gave Rogers. What even was that?” Tony teased, some of his anxiety lessened to know Steve was none the wiser to the freak show going on underneath the surface of Tony’s put-together businessman facade. 

“It’s a shield!” Peter giggled. “It’s so he can protect us from the bad guys, duh.” 

“Hey, I’m not complaining!” Tony pushed past the quiet, somber mood and tried to smile widely. “Lasers are much cooler than that hideous thing. Rogers totally got the short end of the stick here.”

“I have webs, though. I can tie up bad guys an - and I can swing from buildings,” Peter explained, clinging tight to his father as he stood up from his chair.

“Here, why don’t you tell me more about Spiderman while we clean up the living room?” Tony offered, putting Peter down next to where the bare bones of the blanket fort stood remained.

“Ok, ok. So first off, him and Ironman are BEST friends-”


	9. Soldier's Poem

Steve awoke violently, with the sounds of gunshots in his good ear and the smell of smoke filling his nose. He tore out of the sweaty sheets that were clinging to him like a vice, that were choking him like an enemy he couldn’t find in the dim room he slept in. Nearly, ripping the curtains off of the rod nailed above the window, he managed to brush them aside and tug open the window for some desperately needed fresh air.

It was another lovely Friday morning for Steve Rogers in his delightful, empty apartment. At least the light streaming in from outside meant that it was morning and he didn’t have to pace around the combined living room and kitchen until he was too exhausted to stay upright, just for a couple minutes of rest before the nightmares started up again.

He couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming of before he had woken up, but it wasn’t the worst reaction he’d had last night, so he’d take what he could.

The window pumped freezing, cold spring air in from the early morning sky. It cooled him off, making the sweaty shirt he was wearing stick to him uncomfortably, but all Steve could do was sit there and focus on breathing. He sat there, unmoving for anywhere from ten minutes to a full hour, it’s not like he could tell. By the time he straightened up, pulling his head from where he had buried it against his arms on the window sill, the alarm clock on the side of his bed read 8:16. 

Steve would have stayed there for longer if the cool, March chill hadn’t caused his fingers to go numb.

His joints protested as he stood, having gone stiff for sitting hunched over as long as he did. These mornings were always the worst, the ones where there was nothing for him to do. None of his odd jobs, no neighbors requiring his help with home maintenance, no little, old ladies asking for help with their groceries. Just him and his own thoughts, his nightmares, swirling around and around in his head. Thoughts that vibrate off of each other and increase in volume until it’s all Steve can do to not curl up into a ball and hide away until he just rots.

An object in motion stays in motion while an object at rest tends to stay that way. If the blonde keeps working, then there’s no possible chance he’ll stop and think about the things he’s avoiding.

Maybe Sam has the day off. Yeah, he should go visit Sam.

A quick, hot shower was enough to chase the cold away, and by the time he was dressed and calling Sam on his phone, he almost felt like a human being again. The phone rang three times before his friend picked up, filling the receiver with the white noise of public areas filled with people.

“What’s up, Steve? Everything good?” Sam asked, the sounds of people fading away as he presumably walked to a different place.

“You doing anything this morning?” Steve said in lieu of answering Sam’s question. “It’s later than our usual rendezvous, but I figured we could go for a quick jog?”

“That sounds good, man, but I’ve got a morning group at the VA in like fifteen minutes,” Sam explained, sounding distracted as he continued getting ready for his job. “Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

“Maybe,” Steve sighed, flopping back onto the ratty old couch that’s been residing in this apartment since before the dawn of time. “Buck at work already?”

“Yep, sure is. Why?” A hint of amusement crept into Sam’s voice. “You lonely? Why don’t you call up your handsome rich boyfriend, see if he can come pick you up?”

“Har-dee-har-har, you’re fuckin’ hilarious,” Steve groused, glaring at the empty space in front of him. “Why do I even talk to you? This is harassment and ableism, you know that right?” 

“Oh, c’mon you big cry baby. You know I love you,” Steve could nearly hear Sam rolling his eyes over the phone. “Listen, I’ve got to go greet the people in group, but I’m pretty sure Natasha’s free today. Why don’t you go hang with her?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve hummed. He’d been meaning to have a conversation with Natasha for a couple of weeks now, but she was definitely avoiding him as of late. Which normally wouldn’t be too hard to get around if she wasn’t an honest to god spy. Or, at least, he’s coming to believe she is. “Thanks, Sam. See you later.”

Steve grabbed his leather jacket and a helmet off the coat rack next to his front door and headed out. He dialed Nat’s number as he made his way down the stairs and out of his apartment building. Unsurprisingly, like the last time he tried to call her, it went directly to voicemail. Sighing, he sent her a quick text.

‘I know you’re off today. It’s time to talk.’

He sent her a location and a time to meet him at before tucking his phone away and hopping onto his motorcycle. While Natasha was doing a good job at avoiding him, he knew she wouldn’t just ignore him calling her out like that.

Besides, it was good for him to get out of his apartment. The fresh air and sunshine would do him some good.

This was a good choice, he thought to himself as he parked his bike in the lot of the park between his and Natasha’s apartments. The parking lot was about a ten minute walk to their usual spot in front of a pond at the park’s center, but he had time to wander aimlessly the long way around. A good chance to gather his thoughts, helpful thoughts about what he’d say to Nat. Nothing about this morning. Nothing about the dreams that interrupt his sleep almost every other night.

Before he could spiral any further, he caught sight of a familiar face already by their go-to bench. A quick glance at his watch showed that she was right on time, like always.

“Hey, Nat,” Steve grinned, opening his arms for a hug, only half expecting her to react. 

She looked the same as she always did when they met up. Never leaving home without her leather jacket, it had practically become a feature of her person just like her fiery, red hair and guarded green eyes. It’s part of what had been so jarring in seeing her dressed up with a skirt and blouse in Tony’s house.

She sent him an unamused look, the two of them starting a staring match of sorts before she rolled her eyes with a sigh and opened her arms as well.

“Aww, you big softie!” He laughed, pulling her in for a quick hug. It took about three seconds for her to start slipping out of his grasp.

“Enough of that. I know you didn’t invite me to the park so we could hug it out,” Natasha raised her eyebrow at him. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”

“Fine by me,” Steve mumbled, walking past Nat to sit on the bench. “I guess you know what I wanna talk about?”

“Depends,” she hummed, looking out to the pond that was only starting to defrost after a long, cold winter. “Are we talking about what happened at Stark’s or the fact that you’re not getting any sleep at night?” She gave him a sharp, knowing look.

“Not getting - no! Nat, no. That’s not what this is about at all,” Steve should have known Natasha would find a way to shake him. Deflecting was practically second nature to her, especially when it came to talking about things she didn’t want to.

“It’s not like you’re hiding it well. The dark circles under your eyes are starting to give Barnes a run for his money,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You should talk to Sam, he could help find you someone to talk about the nightmares with.”

“I don’t have nightmares! Natasha, focus. We’re here because of what I saw at Stark’s place,” Steve was struggling to keep the conversation on topic and also seem like a well-rested, fully functional adult who doesn’t let a couple of bad dreams get him down. 

“Sure, no nightmares,” She muttered, giving him a skeptical look before giving in and turning back to the pond. “What is there to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘Natalie.’ You tell me,” Steve huffed, tossing his hands up frustratedly. “What? Am I just supposed to pretend that I didn’t see one of my best friends playing secretary for Tony Stark himself?”

“Yes, you are. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Natasha said crossly. “And you can’t have more than one best friend. That defeats the purpose of a best friend.”

“I can have as many best friends as I want, stop changing the subject. Are you spying on Tony?”

“That’s a rudimentary way of putting it...”

“But is it true??”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Steve,” Natasha sighed, suddenly seeming more tired than she had a couple of moments ago. 

“I know you couldn’t tell me about your job back before I had any part in it,” Steve argued, he was nothing if not stubborn. “But now that we just so happen to be working for the same ‘boss,’ I feel like it’s only right that you clue me in.”

Natasha seemed to consider this, glaring at the still surface of the half-frozen body of water in front of her to the blonde man beside her.

“I’m not asking you to spill all your secrets. Just an idea as to why you’d be working for Stark under a fake name and identity would suffice,” Steve wasn’t above begging to get the information he wanted, he was all too ready to give the woman puppy dog eyes and flutter his lashes at her until she either laughed him off or told him what he wanted to hear.

“Fine,” she sighed, leaning back into the bench. “But only since this whole thing is just because of your huge crush on Stark.”

“My WHAT???” Steve’s face was red hot in seconds, he spun to face Natasha. “That’s news to me! Why would you say that?”

“Uh, because I have eyes?” Natasha shot back, looking at the blonde dubiously. “Hell, even the blind can tell you have the hots for Tony. You don’t exactly hide it.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Nat. Please enlighten me,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms against his chest defiantly. He was unwilling to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“First of all, you adore his son.”

“Not everyone hates kids, Nat. He’s one of my students.”

“Secondly, I’ve never seen such low-level flirting get you so flustered. It’s actually kind of gross. Get a grip, man.”

“Stark’s the father of one of my students! Not to mention he’s sort of my boss?”

“Which brings me to point three,” Natasha gives him a sly smirk before inspecting her nails, looking like the image of nonchalance. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t appropriate to stare at your boss the way you do.”

“Oh, come on!” Steve groaned, running a hand down his face in exasperation. “He’s a good-looking man. Sue me for checking the guy out, not like he hasn’t done it to me ten times over.”

“And that, my dear oblivious friend, leads us to an unrelated fourth point,” Natasha leaned in close. “Tony’s into you too. So, get off your high horse, and ask him out.”

“What? No! I mean…” Steve trailed off, imagining what the genius would be like on a date. He’d never been around Tony without Peter except for their brief conversation in the parking lot on Valentine’s Day, and they had gotten on like a house on fire. “I thought he was with someone already?”

“Oh, please,” Nat rolled her eyes. “Between work and spending time with his son, Tony doesn’t have the time to meet anybody, let alone make time for regular dates with them.”

“Then what makes me any different? I shouldn’t ask him out if he won’t have any time for a relationship,” Steve doesn’t know when the conversation turned from him adamantly denying his crush on Tony to what it would be like if they were to start dating, but the blonde was too curious to question it.

“Peter likes you, and it’s obvious you like him too. It’s hard to introduce the strange, new person you’re dating to your son. If it was someone Peter already new and liked though…” Natasha trailed off expectantly, allowing the artist to fill-in the blanks. “Just something to think about.”

“I’ll say,” Steve huffed, shaking his head. He didn’t quite know what to do with this new knowledge.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter, right?” Nat asked, standing up and brushing herself off. “Since you definitely don’t have a crush on Stark, all of that stuff is pointless.” She had the smallest hints of a smug smile on her face as she stared down at a stunned Steve. 

Her phone chirped where it sat in her front pocket and she pulled it out to squint at the message on her screen.

“Perfect timing,” she hummed, putting her cell away in satisfaction. “Something just popped up, I’ve got work to do. Have a good rest of your afternoon, and don’t think so hard. You’ll wrinkle your pretty little face.”

“You’re such a card, Nat,” Steve muttered half-heartedly, otherwise occupied with all the thoughts swirling around his head. “See you this weekend for a movie at Sam and Buck’s?”

“We’ll see,” and with that, she was off walking towards the parking lot.

His trip to the park had been meant to clear his mind, pull him out of thoughts. Now all he could do was think, albeit about better things than this morning. He had came her to clear the air with Natasha, not to have his feelings for Tony questioned and become even more confused than he-

He came here to clear the air with Natasha.

Steve came to talk with Nat and hadn’t gotten a single clear answer out of her for why she was working as Stark’s secretary. She left him with even more questions, and she was probably already in her car and halfway to her apartment by now.

Great. It’s just another lovely Friday morning for Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next are kind of like transition chapters into the long awaited ROMANCE~~~  
> which means it took about ten damn chapters for me to get this shit rolling and I deeply apologize.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	10. Prelude

“Give it to me straight, Doc. Are you going to have to amputate?” Bucky asked where he sat on the exam table in front of Tony.

“I hate to break this to you, Mr. James B. Barnes, but the thing was already cut clean off when we found you,” Tony explained in a grave voice as he spread out his tool kit in the empty space next to Bucky.

“Say it ain’t so!”

“But it is! And you’ve got a kick ass new robo-arm to prove it.”

“Oh, woe is me,” Barnes sighed, stretching the aforementioned arm out when Tony reached for it.

The two of them had a monthly check-in, this being their seventh one so far. This one was about three minutes in and already going astonishingly well, seeing as these appointments haven't always gone so smoothly. Back when they first started, Bucky rarely talked unless it was to answer yes or no questions. Whether it was because he was uncomfortable with the billionaire himself or uncomfortable with what he was doing to his arm, Tony hadn’t a clue what made the man so withdrawn. Well, that’s not true, Tony figured it was probably a mix of both that made Barnes hostile towards him.

Not that he blamed the guy. He was a veteran, one who’d been captured and brainwashed for years, it would be strange if he instantly trusted Tony. Hell, even the people close to the genius were suspicious of his motives when he declared he’d be starting an experimental line of robotic prosthetics. It was a miracle that Bucky hadn’t deleted the e-mail he received from Stark Industries extending an invitation to be one of the first receivers of Stark’s newest line of robo-arms.

The tentative friendship they’ve formed began when Tony, who rambled enough for the both of them during the check-ups, made a joke that finally pulled a reaction out of Bucky. Not a large one, mind you, but the small scoff and roll of his eyes had felt like full belly laughter from the silent man before him. Now the two of them could banter back and forth, and the engineer was delightfully surprised at how well the mechanic could keep up with him.

“Have you been experiencing any delays, lagging, or malfunctioning in the arm in the past month?” Tony asked, popping the maintenance panel off of Bucky’s arm and peering down into the tangle of wires and moving mechanical pieces that lay underneath the chrome exterior.

“Yeah, the middle finger never seems to pop up fast enough when I’m around my roommate,” Bucky sighed, leaning over to look inside the arm along with Tony.

“Sorry, cyborg. It’s meant to function like a normal arm, not an asshole detector,” the engineer hummed as he turned down the sensitivity dial attached directly underneath the opening panel for easy access to the rest of the arm. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

“Sure thing, Doc. I have noticed this one malfunction, though.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Whenever someone tells a shitty joke it just goes ape, absolutely hog wild, and slaps the shit out of them. Here, I’ll show you: tell me that joke you brought up last month?”

“You’re truly a card, Barnes,” Tony muttered, still refusing to look up from where he was busy at work, much to Bucky’s dismay.

“When you gonna let me check this thing out for myself?”

“As soon as you allow me to update this hideous chrome disaster into a modern masterpiece.”

“The day I allow you to turn my left arm into a hideous gold and red monstrosity is the day I die,” Bucky was giving Tony a cold look. “I’m surprised you didn’t just make it the way you wanted when you built the thing. You’re paying for it, after all.”

“I built it, yes, but I’m not the one literally attached to it,” Tony muttered as he worked on gently moving wires aside and doing general maintenance to the guts of the machine. The main elbow joint was starting to look worn, he’d put some oil on it for now then bring up possibly replacing it next month. “As much as I enjoy watching you stalk around with that drowned alley cat look on your face, I do want you to be satisfied with what I’ve done here.”

“Stop it, you’ll make me blush,” Bucky scoffed, grinning down at the genius. “You’re such a flirt, Mr. Stark. I bet you say that to all the grumpy, brainwashed amputees around this place.”

“Just you, my sweet Bucky Bear,” Tony shot back, not looking up from his work once.

“Be careful talking like that,” Barnes warned, cryptically pausing between sentences. “Might make your boyfriend jealous like that.”

That managed to grab the engineer’s attention. He looked up just as Bucky was reigning in a shit-eating grin.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Tony hummed, raising an eyebrow at the mechanic.

“Just the word on the street, Stark,” Bucky shrugged, using the shoulder that wasn’t currently being dug around in.

“Funny, I didn’t take you for a gossip,” Tony squinted up at him before slowly going back to looking through the arm, shining a light down towards the wrist joint.

“Eccentric billionaire offers some random unemployed vet if he wants a shiny, new arm free of charge, you do some digging on him, “ Bucky explained. “That’s beside the point. I didn’t read this in trashy gossip mag, I heard all about it from a secret source.”

“Is that secret source 6’1, blonde, and apparently annoyingly open about his personal relationships when it comes to old war buddies who need a shower?” Tony groaned, halting his progress on the arm yet again.

“Hey! I’m not THAT greasy,” Barnes huffed, shooting Tony a look that the genius dubbed his ‘murder stare’ before continuing. “And it’s not that he’s open about it, it’s just obvious that you two have a thing going on.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” Tony lied, poking at the circuits attached to the fingers of the arms and making them jump.

“I think you do. ‘Cause you didn’t even blink when I said I’d slap you silly, but the moment I brought up Steve, suddenly you’re listening?”

The genius was silent for a minute, which was an immense victory when it came to him and his unceasing chatter. In the time he took to formulate a response, he’d moved from the fingers, back up to the tangle of wires and neuro-transmitters that connected the arm to Bucky’s shoulder.

“Purely circumstantial. Maybe I just pay more attention to you when you tell me about your friends,” Tony glanced up at where the mechanic was looking down at him with an amused smirk on his face.

“Good point. What’s my room mate’s name?”

“Stan.”

“And my boyfriend’s name?”

“Aren’t you dating the room mate?”

“What? No!” Now Bucky was starting to look a little flustered, finally looking away from the genius. “And for your information, his name is Sam. He’s just a friend.”

“No, no. You’re not allowed to pull the ‘aw shucks’ routine on me, Cupid,” Tony chuckled, pulling his tools from the metal arm and wiping them off with a nearby rag. “I’ve seen that nasty, mushy, lovesick-fool look in your eyes when you talk about Sam. Names are irrelevant, you become a regular ol’ softy when it comes to him.”

“You better stop talking or I’m going to hurl all over you and this fancy, new-fangled arm,” Barnes growled. “And you can’t say shit, not when you’re mooning over Steve of all people.”

“I’m not sure what kind of puppy-love stories he tells you at the beauty salon where you two get your hair done at,” Tony drawled, shoving the sleeve of Bucky’s shirt up to get a better look at where the metal was fused to the remaining piece of his shoulder. This was Barnes least favorite part, so he always made sure to distract the man when it came to this part of the exam. “But there couldn’t be less going on between the two of us. Not for lack of trying, though. I mean have you seen the guy? Rivals those gaudy greek statues you find in art museums, it’s criminal.”

“First off, ew. He’s like a brother to me and I think I’ll actually throw up if you keep talking about him like that,” Bucky feigned looking disgusted, putting his good hand over his face and sighing exaggeratedly. “And secondly, if there really isn’t anything going on between you too, then why’d he spend the whole weekend at your place, huh?”

“He was watching my rugrat, for christ’s sake,” Tony sighed. “What are you trying to pull here, Barnes?”

“Nothing! I swear,” Bucky sighs, letting his hand slip off his face and fall back into his lap. He looked much more tired than he had a second ago. “The guy rarely meets anyone knew, let alone someone he clicks with, like you. I’d be annoyed with how much he talks about you if he didn’t deserve something good after the shit he’s been through. That we’ve been through.”

Tony carefully tugged the mechanic’s shirt sleeve down over the gnarled mess of scars littering the skin above the robot arm, he was done checking it out anyways. Sometimes it was hard to remember all of the horrors the veteran before him had experienced. The man did a good job of pretending he was ok, of snarking back with Tony and putting on a brave face every time someone moved too fast around him or brought out a new tool or instrument that he didn’t recognize or recognized all too well.

It’s not like you get to see the whole picture when you only meet-up with somebody once a month for an hour. Bucky’s free to call and come in whenever if there’s any problems with the arm whatsoever, but Tony’s not stupid. He knows Barnes would never do that and barely gets through these small appointments as it is.

“Well, if he’s so into me then why doesn’t he just ask me out?” Tony asked quietly, his regular speaking voice would seem too loud in this weird silence they’ve lapsed into. “Steve does this absurdly annoying thing where he damn near reads my mind. Figured he’d know I wouldn’t be opposed to a roll in the hay by now, I’m not exactly subtle.”

“Stubborn bastard probably hasn’t realized it yet,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes like it was a regular occurrence for him to talk about his best friend’s less than stellar self-awareness in relation to dating. “If you ever get him alone, you should ask him out.”

“Are you always so weirdly invested in your friend’s romantic life?” Tony drawled as he worked on putting the open panel to the metal arm securely back in place. “‘Cause I gotta say, it’s kind of unsettling.”

“I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“He’s just lonely. I don’t regret moving out, it was good for me,” Bucky rolled his shoulder when Tony was done, glad to stretch out his shoulder and back now that he didn’t have to sit still anymore. “But I can’t say it doesn’t worry me to think of him living all by himself in that shitty, old apartment.”

“So he needs an eccentric billionaire to fill up the place, I see where this is going,” Tony nodded sagely. “You want me to be your bestie’s sugar daddy, I completely understand now.”

“Would you shut the hell up already, Stark?” Bucky laughed, throwing the rag lying on the cot into his face. “Just figured I’d let you know. It’s honestly completely selfish of me, I’m tired of hearing him pine over you like a thirteen year old girl.” Barnes slid off the table, standing up and stretching a bit more before grabbing his coat. “But I get it if you’re too pussy to make the first move.”

“Get that shit-eating grin off your face before I take it off myself,” Tony groaned, shoving the rag back into his tool kit and shooting the mechanic the nastiest glare he could manage. “That’s it. You’ve lost arm privileges, hand it over.”

“In your dreams, Stark,” Bucky snickered, walking backwards so he can flip the genius off with said arm as he walks backwards to the door. “Until next month?”

“Thank god. I’m not sure I could tolerate you around here anymore before then,” Tony sighed, waving him out.

It wasn’t until Barnes was out of the examination room and JARVIS confirmed he was in the elevator down to the first floor lobby that Tony buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. 

Really? Steve? With a crush on him? This was all so juvenile. So...middle school. It was enough to leave Tony gagging. He gathered the rest of his tools and decided he’d spend some time down in his lab before he went to pick Peter up from aftercare. 

The board was itching for another shiny, new piece of tech to release to the public at a ridiculous price anyways. No matter how many times Tony insisted that the phones and tablets he was making didn’t need improving upon, those money hungry dogs were always pounding their fists on the table for more and more. They had no respect for the durable, long-lasting tech he was producing.

Maybe he’d have Pepper schedule a press conference and he’d tell everyone just what he thought about them demanding the blueprints of the fifth edition Starkphone immediately following the release of the fourth. Just to piss off those old bats on the board. 

“Jarvis, pull up the news. I wanna make sure it’s long enough since my last scandal to make a scene,” Tony muttered as he pulled out the schematics for a touch-screen computer he was considering releasing to the public, it was something new from Stark Industries anyways.

“Right away, sir,” JARVIS replied, pulling up a holo-screen in front of the man and flipping through news articles about SI until he found the most recent one about Tony Stark himself. “There seems to be another article about Peter, I’m afraid.”

That got the genius to drop what he was doing immediately, his head snapping up to glare at the screen.

“They wouldn’t dare. The press KNOWS about the restraining order,” Tony hissed, staring in bewilderment at the screen before him. It was a grainy picture, but not so fried you couldn’t make out Tony himself holding one Peter Parker. The boy’s face was obscured by the branches of a tree, thank god. Peter was reaching out towards Steve, who had his back turned to the camera and was only half in frame, the picture had obviously been taken last second before Tony took his son home after art.

The caption on the page read ‘New Addition to the Stark Family???’ and went into detail how this mysterious, unidentified, blonde hottie was one of Tony’s newest sweethearts. Things like ‘What does he think about the Stark heir??? Will Tony Stark’s son make or break this blossoming relationship?! Could this finally be the man to tie down and tame the unruly Stark namesake???’ The press were utter vultures. 

Tony wished he could sue the shit out of whoever took this picture, but it technically hadn’t broken any rules. Peter’s face was obscured in the picture, there was no telling if it was actually his son or not, despite that line of thinking being entirely braindead. Of course it was his son, why the fuck would he be holding some other random six year old from the Community Center?

Then they had to go and drag Steve into this as well, trying to connect dots in the worst way possible. The only way this could get worse was if the blonde found out about this and called him to tell Tony and his son to fuck off, and find a different aftercare program to enroll Peter in.

Which brought up another good point, Steve had no idea about this. Or at least, if he did, he was certainly doing a good job of hiding it.

This would be such an easy thing to sweep under the rug, to never discuss with the teacher. The last thing Tony wanted to do was have Steve quit on him and have Peter miserable over business trips all over again. The last month had been almost a complete 180 from the cranky boy throwing tantrums in the parking lot of the aftercare building, it would be a major setback to get rid of the blonde now. 

Living in the spotlife his entire life, the genius knew what would happen after this article was published. There’d be even more of the press stalking the recreation center, and subsequently, Steve.

Reluctantly, Tony slipped his phone out of his pocket. He angrily jabbed at his contacts list until he was dialing just the man he’d been meaning to talk to. Admittedly, this wasn’t the circumstance he’d want to ask this in, but when has anything ever gone well for him before? The phone rang for thirty seconds before someone finally picked up.

“Hey, Steve. Wanna get dinner this Saturday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first off, sorry the last two chapters have literally just been set-up but good news! This was the last one, next chapter is the big date! 
> 
> also a quick apology for disappearing for two weeks, i was in a different state with no laptop one week and then after that I caught the plague, which i am still trying to get over! Thanks for sticking with me, though!


End file.
